Life of a Spy
by X4uth0r
Summary: They told him Blunt had retired. They lied. Even K-Unit may only be able to pick up the pieces... and not put the broken spy back together. Except, this time, terrorists are not to blame. Series of connected oneshots. Plot/better writing begins at Chapter 8. Rated T for violence, mild language and psychological torture/abuse. Post SR.
1. Graves

**(Edit-03.22.15. I cringe when reading this- my writing style has drastically changed, as with the length. Please spare yourself some trouble and begin at Chapter 8.)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider.**

* * *

The eighteen-year-old stood in front of a gravesite.

There were two of them, side by side. A mother and father, leaving an orphaned, three-month-old boy.

Both had tragically died in the bombing of a plane.

Beside it was a single gravestone of a man who had died in a mysterious car accident nearly four years ago.

It was known to so few of the bullet holes found on the scarred car.

In a lonely corner was a single, unmarked grave.

Only one knew who it was for—the world's greatest assassin who had died instead of a certain teenage spy.

A cluster of three stood nearby—representing the remains of a family—a happy set of parents with a young, teenage girl.

What many people did not know was that each member of that happy family died from a single bullet to the head. A painless death to be sure—yet not for the young boy on the sidelines, unable—_helpless_—to do anything, in the arms of three, highly trained assassins—all because the young spy did not have simple, yet vital, information.

Bitter was the grave beside them, the spy's best friend that died at a cost. The cost of a _game_.

But the worst of all was the single grave in the very center.

It had a single word written upon it.

A word the left sorrow, bitterness, tragedy, in despair, _lost_ in the mind of the young boy that had seen her die from a car bomb—useless to do anything, watching behind monitors.

_Jack._

Watching Jack die again and again in his nightmares, Alex Rider, teenage spy, had never gotten over it, and never would.

Alex Rider had given so much—_too_ much. And what had he gotten in return?

_Sorrow._

_Despair._

_Death._

Millions of people who did not know they had been saved from a teenage boy.

He had given his time—skipped way too much school—all... for what?

Getting blackmailed again and again?

The deaths of his parents when he wasn't even a year old? The death of his uncle? His best friend? An assassin? His new family? And his... guardian?

That guardian had been more than a housekeeper, more than a guardian—his soul mate, the woman who had comforted him, been the mother he never had.

Alex had lost _everyone_ that he cared about.

He had given up his childhood—teenage years, and he had begun giving his adult life.

Alex had been blackmailed, forced to complete horrible and painful _(suicide)_ missions—for complete strangers.

He had been shot, sniped, and tortured both physically and mentally.

Alex had given his _soul._

His _sanity._

And it would not take long for it to take his life—spies hardly reached age thirty.

What had he gotten in return for saving millions?

Nothing besides the many scars, being blackmailed and having friends and family dying—being _killed_.

The spy sighed, weary. _Tired_. Memories washed over him.

He knew it wouldn't stop—ever.

* * *

The life of a spy...you have to give more than you get in return.


	2. Always Accountable

**Thanks to anyone who reviewed, followed, favorited or clicked on this link.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider.**

* * *

The spy frowned, concentrating hard as he grabbed a nearby chair, thrusting it beneath the doorknob.

They would be here any second—already he could hear the screech of the tires as the car skidded to a stop, the harsh opening of doors, along with the light footsteps approaching.

He saw the scared face of Sabina behind him.

The teen pressed his weight against the door, but he knew it wouldn't last long. "Go. _Now._"

She took a fearful step back, eyes wide.

Liz and Edward Pleasure, obviously worried, came into the entryway.

"Alex, what is it?" Liz asked, confused.

"You need to leave, _now_. Go out the back door." He felt weight press against the door—they were trying to break the door down.

Alex heard a few shots go off, shattering the nearby windows.

"Rider, open up the door... we know you're hiding..." A teasing voice taunted him from outside, slightly muffled (hence the door).

Seeing that the Pleasures _still hadn't moved_, he twisted around slightly. "I said to go! Leave, _now_!" The teen felt the door begin to give.

He heard another crack of gunfire, instinctively ducking as the bullets spewed the wood of the door.

The Pleasures were finally backing away to the kitchen, where he knew the backdoor would be an ideal getaway.

"Hurry!" Alex's calls was desperate, now. He felt the crushing weight against the door, heard more smash through the living room windows. How many attackers were there?

Six?

Eight?

All he knew was that he _wouldn't_ be able to hold them off for much longer.

The front door groaned, shuddering against the full force of someone who was _very, very, strong_.

The teen rolled back _(just in time) _as the door gave in, slamming down on the floor, cracking the chair to bits (Liz _wouldn't_ be pleased), allowing entry to four, highly skilled professional, heavily armed _(assassins? Agents? Scorpia?)_ men.

More were coming through the broken windows.

Alex could only hope that the Pleasures had made it out safely.

One swift kick brought down the nearest one, knocking her unconscious.

Except it didn't.

She wasn't there anymore.

Suddenly, he was under a flurry of blows coming seemingly from every direction _(probably was)._

The spy hastily put up defenses, not having enough to go on the offense—_there were too many of them._

He was fighting a losing battle.

It was a doomed failure from the start—and he knew it.

He was weaponless, outnumbered, weak, and sleep-deprived (no thanks to MI6 and his nightmares).

Although he knew he had gotten at least _one_ of them unconscious, the injuries he sustained were far worse.

The odds were definitely against him.

In no time at all, the teen was pinned down, three assassins holding him in place while another cuffed his arms behind his back.

The boy twisted about uselessly, struggling as he was hauled up, still restrained by the arms of three assassins.

The Pleasures were prodded into the living room by gunpoint, none of which were looking very happy.

Ed was clutching a bruise on his forehead, Lix looked like she was in shock, and Sabina was cursing profoundly under her breath.

The leader of the group smiled manically (it seemed like _all_ the bad guys were always insane).

"We've been looking for you, Rider," his eyes took in the rich furnishings. "Didn't think we'd find you in such a nice place. MI6 _has_ been taking care of you."

The spy's muscles tensed at the Intelligence Agency's name.

Leader turned back towards Alex, seeing his taut body. "Or maybe not..."

The teen tried jerking away _(a futile attempt)._ "What do you want?"

"Information," Leader answered smoothly, bringing out a steel knife. "Where-"

The spy flinched back as the cold, razor-sharp metal pressed itself into his skin.

"-is Ian Rider's contact list?"

His breaths hitched as the knife (almost _playfully_) drew along his throat, not yet drawing blood.

"I don't know—Mi6 took all his stuff. I hadn't even had a chance to go through it, yet."

It was the truth—Alex had no clue as to where MI6 kept it, or if they had destroyed it or not.

His smile never wavered as he took the knife away from his neck. "Wrong answer." Leader nodded toward the woman holding a gun to Edward Pleasures' head.

"No! You can't—" The spy desperately thrashed in the arms of the assassins, growling like an animal, (and just as) determined to do anything, _anything_ to save his adoptive father's life. "I swear I have _no idea where it is!_"

A gunshot.

Liz gasped, dropping to the ground where her husband lay, silently shedding tears over her dead love.

Sabina just stood there, frowning as if she wasn't believing what was happening. (She was starting to hyperventilate: sharp breaths, shock, disbelief—)

Alex panted, writhing and fighting unsuccessfully, the death of his _(not-so biological)_ dad _right in front of him_.

Leader raised an eyebrow. "What's it going to be, Rider? You gonna tell us? Or do I need to kill off another member of your family?"

The boy stared hard into Leader's eyes, glaring. Composure was important, he needed to _stay in control_. "I. Don't. _Know._"

Voice; steel, firm, true.

Leader smirked, glad _(like so many others before him)_, to rip apart his (new) family _(further)._ "Have it your way."

Liz was still clinging to her dead husband, wide-eyed, looking like _this shouldn't be happening, this couldn't be happening, why is the happening?!_

_It must've been some... mutual-shared nightmare, when she woke up this would all be a bad dream, everything would be fine—_

Another shot of the gun.

The spy _(seemingly)_ went crazy, fighting against the arms that held down, although he was restrained firmly.

"No," Alex croaked, voice hoarse.

Sabina choked down tears, kneeling beside her dead parents.

"I'm sure you know by now that we're willing to do just about _anything_ for what we want, Rider," Leaders said casually, as if killing innocents was merely nothing _(it probably wasn't)_. "I suggest you start talking."

Alex shook his head. "You want Ian's contact list? Go talk to MI6. I have _no clue_ as to where it is."

Smiling still _(would he ever stop?)_, Leader strode up to Sabina, smoothly pulling out a gun, pointing it directly at her head. "Last chance Rider, or I shoot the girl."

The teen writhed _(in a frenzy)_ under the arms of the assassins, though they were doing a good job of keeping him under control. "No! _Don't!_ You can't!"

Voice; panicked, desperate, wild.

The third shot rang out.

His face crumpled, abandoning all composure.

_Pain._

Tears were coming down, now.

In the time span of fifteen minutes, his family was dead.

Gone—like the others before them.

Slumped, _defeated_, his captors got him under control.

"Want to tell us where it is, now?" Leader asked playfully. "Or do we have to drag you down into a dark torture chamber somewhere?"

He tensed. "I told you, I _don't know where it is_," the spy hissed.

Leader grinned. "You might change your mind when—"

A spotlight suddenly shined through the windows, obviously a helicopter that was above (high—couldn't feel the wind from the—) the house.

"MI6! Get on the ground, all of you! We have you surrounded!" A man barked out. "I repeat, get on the ground and put your hands behind your head!"

Leader cursed under his breath. "We gotta get out of here—the side windows."

"Are we taking the boy?" One of the men holding Alex, asked.

Leader shook his head. "He'd just slow us down. We leave him."

The teen was roughly dragged to the banister at the bottom of the stairs (which had miraculously managed to stay intact during the fight), the cuffs attached securely to the bottom rail.

Alex didn't remember much after that—it was merely a fuzzy memory, a blur of events that happened shortly after; the CIA debriefing him on what had happened, a group of MI6 agents escorting him back to England via a cargo plan, promptly skipping a funeral, and then... a bank.

* * *

"I am thoroughly disappointed in you."

"What?! So now it's _my_ fault the Pleasures got killed?" The boy snarled. "If you hadn't sent me on that mission they _never would have been put in any danger!_"

Blunt raised an eyebrow _(what was he even doing back at SO?)_. "I think you will find that we never forced you to complete those missions. In fact, it was of your own free will that you accepted. Although we often offer great benefits when you do them."

_(Benefits like not deporting Jack, not sending him to some orphanage, giving him leave on missions, not taking away his house, making sure that he—)_

Blunt leaned comfortably back in his chair. "It is rather unfortunate you did not save them, especially if you had simply made the _right_ decisions. Making the simple choices such as staying in England, telling them the information that they wanted, obeying _me_ instead of being rebellious and acting foolishly." His eyes hardened. "It was _your_ fault that the Pleasures are dead. The blame is _completely_ on your shoulders. Do you understand, Alex?"

The teen recoiled back from the horrible voice. He was overwhelmed—overwhelmed by the sheer _power_ in which Blunt was speaking. He swallowed, _knowing_ that he should protest, instincts _screaming_ at him that, _no_, he should _not_ bite back the angry reply.

"_Do you understand?" _ Blunt _(not asked. _Blunt never merely _asked_ without any strings attached, he always—) ordered in a commanding tone.

The spy tensed. "_Yes."_

Voice; loathing, hateful, despising.

"What did you say, Alex?" Blunt teasingly asked.

The teen's jaw snapped closed. "Yes, _sir._"

Voice; _(not)_ obeying, _(not)_ submissive.

Rebellious, defiant, that he would fight _forever_ for his freedom.

* * *

Life of a spy is... is _tough_. It means you _always_ have to be accountable for your actions, even when things go wrong. And things _will_ go wrong.


	3. Mad Hatter

**Thanks for the follows, favorites, and anyone that is reading this right now (or the story itself. That works, too). **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider.**

* * *

So much pain.

All the time.

It never stopped.

There was no end in sight... only death.

Ah, death. It would be a relief (it would come... soon. Hopefully?).

But _no_, of course they wouldn't let him die.

It didn't matter that they clothed him, washed him, fed him, cleaned his wounds, and let his body heal.

It didn't matter, because... because they took him to _That Room_... and there was pain.

He tried to block it out.

He tried to face it with a (fake) smirk, lips twisted in a sardonic grin; sarcastic humor still played upon his expression.

But no, he was still chained up everyday (like an animal—yet treated worse).

He was still broken, with no hope of a better future.

He had long since given up on MI6.

He had nothing left... nothing left to lose.

The torture was physical, but it was mental, too.

From the glaring lights to the pitch black.

The blare of music, to the deafening silence that lasted _way too long._

The burst of people, to being alone.

The drugs they had experiment on... the hallucinations, the nightmares, the flashbacks... the _memories._

Either forgotten, or painfully clear.

He wasn't going mad... no, he had past that quite a while ago.

He was crazy.

It had lasted for too long.

He had lost track of time.

Had it been mere months... or years? A minute or a lifetime?

It was actually rather odd. He felt detached from himself—from his memories. Those happy ones of the vacations with Ian, or perhaps with Jack, laid-back and carefree.

No, they weren't his memories. Someone else's... a part of Alex that MI6 had killed long ago.

Yes, he was definitely insane.

Why wouldn't they kill him? They had already done all they could. He was broken, and dying a slow and painful death.

Wasn't that enough?

So why wouldn't they just _get it over with?_

He had fought.

He had endured.

He no longer had any will to live.

No one was coming.

He couldn't live this life.

He was done.

A prick of the needle, then then... nothing.

* * *

As a spy, you must endure. You have to be a fighter. You have to do things that make you wonder how much longer you can hold on.


	4. Lucky Stars

**Thanks to anyone who reviewed, followed, favorited or clicked on this link.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider.**

* * *

There was so much heat.

It was _hot._

Not humidity—_thank god_—but dry heat.

It wasn't long before the rest of his senses returned, leaving him blinded in the glaring light; the barest of a brief wind sweeping over him. Outside, obviously. It would also explain the heat.

He was having trouble concentrating—remembering just _what had happened_.

The memories—_his_ memories—came rushing back, hitting him full force.

It had been a mission—of course—the Middle East. It had been a success, but... MI6 hadn't come to 'pick him up' (the heads liked to use the word _retrieved_) from the terrorist camp. Torture had been immediate after his cover was blown, both physical and mental.

_("This formula will make you think years have gone by, that you have long since been tortured, and you are insane."_

_A sharp prick of a needle, than _IT _had started, and months and years had gone by and _**no one** _had come, and _**no one** _cared, and MI6 had left him and there was pain—_**so much** _pain and time had passed and... nothing...)_

He didn't want to remember.

So where _was_ he.

Fingers twitched, feeling the grainy substance beneath him, and the sun on his back... was he still in the _desert_.

_Your mission was in the Middle East_, a voice whispered to him. _Duh_.

Right, so—

Had they just _left_ him? To die?

It _was_ a bit better than being tortured to death, but... _why?_

The terrorist group—Hussein—had been planning an attack in their own country, Bahrain, against several ambassadors that were going to meet the president—a a good, new, modernish president—to begin the new process of healing the country, and Alex had merely sabotaged it... pissing off the Husseins, of course.

So... _why_. _Why_ had they let him live?

_They know the pain of being a spy, doing missions,_ the voice explained. _They're leaving you to MI6. You hate the heads more than you hate doing missions._

Ah, that would explain it.

_And, your chance of survival is pretty low in the _desert, the voice added. _Which is _why _you need to get up _right now.

Right.

Alex slowly stood up, taking in the hot, sweltering weather. The teen winced as the recent stitches on his back pulled—probably shouldn't have tried stretching that far—the bandages that were holding his back together threatening to tear.

It had been a sloppy job—they definitely needed to be changed soon—but he was lucky they did it at all, wanting to keep him alive throughout their 'interrogations.'

He needed to move.

The teen cradled his dislocated shoulder, he really _did _need to relocate it. In the end, it didn't take much—banging it on the ground a couple times before it popped into place.

Then he started walking

It was a decent pace—around the same speed in the BB survival treks—but it wasn't long before the sun took its toll, and there were burns on his bare arms and face.

He kept walking.

Alex knew that the lack of water was making him dehydrated, _knew_ that he was hallucinating and it wouldn't be long before—

He kept walking.

It was becoming a tremendous effort just to put one foot in front of the other, and Alex _knew_ that this time, he really _was_ going crazy.

He kept walking.

Parched mouth, eyes nearly closed, burning back—and not from the sun—empty stomach, feet dragging.

He kept walking.

It didn't matter that he was going in circles, wandering aimlessly through a desert with no hope for survival.

He fell into unconsciousness, welcoming the darkness.

* * *

He woke up in the pitch black.

Breaths quickened.

He was shivering.

The sun was gone.

But it _wasn't_ pitch-black, because there was the moon.

And the stars.

For one moment, it was breathtaking just to see the thousands upon thousands of stars.

He felt better in the darkness, the light was gone, the heat was gone.

But the stars... Ian had taught him about the stars. And constellations.

He would survive.

Alex picked out Orion the Hunter, and started walking.

The cold really was much better than the heat.

He kept walking.

The darkness was much better than the light.

He kept walking.

It had been at least three hours, when the stars and moon began to fade, and the sun returned.

He kept walking.

He knew he was delirious when he saw the red, white and blue colors of the English flag.

Alex laughed, but it came out as a choked, hoarse moan.

His knees buckled from under him, yet still seeing that hallucination of the flag.

It would be nice dying this way, the last thing he would see was something he had once loved, but had grown to hate.

Alex almost smiled, drifting back unconscious, welcoming death.

* * *

"Whoa, it's a kid!"

"Get a medic here—quick!"

"He's severely dehydrated, also suffering from heatstroke."

"_Hell,_ his back, it's... he's—he's been _tortured_."

More curses.

"Heissen. They did this, to a—a _kid_."

Fists clenched.

Hesitation. "Will he live?"

"From what, the torture or left in the desert without food and water?"

A pause.

"Yeah, he'll live. But just barely."

Shake of the head. "Man, he's got the luck of the devil."

* * *

As a spy, you have to keep moving forward—no matter what's in front of you.

* * *

**Review, please?**


	5. Nonfatal Alarms

**Whoa. The review count ****_literally_**** just doubled. Yeah, you guys definitely deserve this faster update.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider.**

* * *

Alex jolted awake as he heard the distinct sound of gunshots, but relaxed—albeit only slightly—when he saw the source of the noise.

Smithers had thought it had been some kind of _joke_ when he had set gunshots (that were surprisingly realistic) for a ringtone on the 'special' phone he had given Alex. He had said it would "indefinitely wake him up" and "he would _want_ to answer that dreaded call when it came, if only to stop the gunshots."

Alex _especially_ hadn't been pleased when he had tried resetting the ringtone.

Instead of gunshots, the James Bond theme song had popped on.

The teen grit his teeth as his hand snatched up the cellular device, the movement exerting his already-sore torso, any more would indefinitely tear the stitches binding his back together. And _man_, that recently dislocated shoulder was hurting like _hell_.

He really didn't want to get up today.

His mission had ended, what, _last night?!_ _Late_ last night, Alex added. He had been unconscious when he had been 'retrieved,' and he had woken up at Royal and General; his injuries cleaned, bandaged, and stitched.

After that, he had been debriefed, and then sent home, where he had collapsed into an exhausted sleep for the past twelve hours. The teen _definitely_ hadn't had a decent meal, yet, either.

"_What?_" Alex snapped, allowing every ounce of tiredness and weariness into tho that single word, along with the loathing and hatred he had for Blunt (he hoped the person on the other end got the message).

The woman (secretary, he had to presume) on the other end seemed unperturbed (a bad sign). "Royal and General has requested your presence at 4:30pm to discuss your accounts."

The teen's jaw clenched. "Tell Blunt to _back off_. I need at _least_ another two weeks to recover."

There was a soft click, and the line went dead.

Alex tiredly leaned back on the pillows.

The last time he had refused to come to the 'bank,' Blunt had sent a team of MI6 agents to 'retrieve' him, aka have a full-out _battle_ in his _living room_ (the couch, floor, and ceiling would never be the same. If Jack was still alive, she would've _killed hi_m; Ian wouldn't have been much better) and it wasn't long after that he had found himself tased and cuffed, in Blunt's office.

The boy fell back asleep, dead to the world.

_I need rest._

* * *

Unfortunate, but true: a spy's life requires you to get up earlier than you want to.

* * *

**As always, feel free to give me any ideas or suggestions I have a bunch already, but there's always room for more. Thanks to Vivianne95 for those four ideas- I'll be sure to use them, albeit not immediately.**


	6. Fictional Freedom

**The only reason this fanfic is a series of oneshots and not an actual story, is because is has no plot.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider.**

* * *

Alex stormed angrily in the office, as loud as any spy _can_ be. "The _hell?!_ You sent _MI6_ agents to _my_ house to _retrieve_ a _rogue agent?!_"

"If my agents refuse to cooperate and respond to orders, they are dubbed as 'rogue' until further notice," Blunt stated calmly.

"I'm _not_ your agent," he snarled.

"Quiet, Alex."

Alex ignored him. "I got back _yesterday_. I haven't had a decent nights' sleep in two weeks, and a decent _meal_ since before that, and you want to _send me on another mission?!_" He ranted. "I need at _least_ another two weeks to recover."

He didn't see Mrs. Jones pressed as small button that would trigger the silent alarm.

There was a moment of silence before the office flooded with MI6 agents.

Alex may have been able to take down one of the youngest agents, one-on-one, but there were too many, and the operatives were too well trained.

It wasn't long before he was detained.

"Would you like us to put him in a holding cell?" The lead agent asked.

Blunt's eyes never left the boy. "That won't be necessary. I wish to talk to him. You are dismissed."

The head agent nodded, then left with the rest of MI6 agents.

Mrs. Jones popped another peppermint in. The teen looked defeated, slumped over, arms cuffed behind him to the high-back chair. She couldn't help but notice how the angle of his left shoulder twisted awkwardly back, dislocated. A bruise was already forming along his jawline.

He looked tired, weary, shoulders hunched over, head drooping forward. The spy was tense, as if expecting more pain. Heart sinking, Mrs. Jones realized it wasn't much different than the 'interrogations' he had had during his previous mission. He was immobilized, helpless, and at the mercy of a person he hated.

"That was unacceptable," Alan Blunt said harshly. "Understood, Alex?"

"Yes, sir," the broken boy answered quietly.

It was happening more and more often—him being beaten to submission. It was also taking less and less time for Blunt to do it—he didn't make idle threats.

"How is Tom Harris fairing?" Blunt expertly poised it as a question—it was anything but.

Alex's head snapped up at that. "You leave him out of this!" He snarled. "He doesn't have _anything_ to do with this!"

"It really is a shame..." Blunt drawled on. "I heard it was a messy divorce, too many lawsuits involved. The Harris' are significantly poorer, now. Gerald is _trying_ to help out, yet he _is_ busy with college of his own—Italy, actually."

Alex began to hyperventilate, short, panicking breaths of air. "N-no! You-"

Alan Blunt gazed at him with a seemingly bored, uninteresting grey eyes. "It would be terrible if Mr. and Mrs. Harris were fired, their bank accounts wiped clean, credit cards expired and their son, Gerald, expelled and deported... all in one week. Quite coincidental, wouldn't you agree, Alex?"

The teen became a wild animal, fire in his eyes as he writhed desperately in the cuffs and-

The voices washed over him.

"_Quiet, Alex."_

"_Be still."_

"_Sit _down_, Alex."_

And suddenly, he stopped.

"What do you... _want_ with me?" Alex asked stiffly, finally retaining a calm composure once more.

"I'm glad we have come to an agreement."

* * *

You must meet deadlines that are unreasonable and deliver results that are unparalleled.

Desperation has its cost.

Freedom does not exist.

They will use you.

As a spy, you will always be owned by someone. You will always be desperate, and you will never be free.


	7. Game Fighter

**Thanks for the favorites, follows, reviews, etc.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider.**

* * *

Alex gasped as a fist found its way behind his hastily-made defenses.

The man paid for it as the young spy rammed an elbow into the man's skull.

His eyes widened in shock before landing heavily on the floor, out cold.

The boy snuck a glance at the shatterproof two-way mirror that took up the entire wall.

She would be enjoying this—that saying, Adriana Renè, the new psycho that wanted to take over the world. This time, it was a crazy French woman who was going to build up an assassin force made entirely out of kids. She would begin to slowly kill off high-ranking officials and powerful politicians in the Middle East, gaining both power and money.

Alex leaned tiredly against the wall for support, but forced himself to take a defensive stance as the last guard warily approached him, his two comrades on the floor.

The spy barely dodged the fist that came straight for his head, but grit his teeth as it crunched sickeningly into his shoulder.

Twisting about, he managed to get somewhat as he used the man's arm as a ladder—pulling his assailant down as well as giving him support.

A sharp kick to the temple did the job.

The teen quickly glanced at the clock—he had ten seconds to spare.

It was a horribly sick and inhumane game.

After being caught and the all-too familiar villain-cliche speech, Renè hadn't seemed intent on killing him anytime soon. Merely, a test subject for her assassin training that was still in progress.

The spy had been put in a small interrogation-looking room, security cameras, two way mirror, windowless—yet no torturers came to 'interrogate' him, nothing.

Renè had left him for two days.

He waited.

And waited.

The teen was beginning to feel the effects of dehydration, along with hunger—yet he knew his breaking point would not come till around the third day for water.

The clock ticked exactly 1300 when the first man came in.

He started attacking him.

He wasn't the _best_ of fighters—no professional training—and he didn't carry weapons of any kind.

One against one, Alex defeated him somewhat easily, bearing only minor cuts and bruises and a bit out of breath. He was more confused than anything—Renè should have _known_ that he was a better fighter than that, and would've been able to easily take down an inexperienced guard.

She was testing him... but for what?

Thirty seconds.

One man.

Exactly ninety seconds later, the door opened again.

Four men came in, dragged the unconscious body out, re-entered, and locked the door behind them.

The teen warily took a step backwards.

These, he realized, (by their stance—center gravity, high confidence level and—), was no inexperienced guard.

They were professionals.

His head jerked to the side as an invisible loud-speaker blasted into his ears. "Hello, Alex."

Renè.

"These are professional killers. I have given them permission to kill you—you see, you killed one of their friends. I suggest you save your energy—the time is ticking."

_What did she mean by—_

The teen ducked the fist that crashed into the wall where his neck had been, missing him by centimeters.

The spy quickly got into action, instincts screaming at him to _survive_.

Although both sides of the party were unarmed, they _clearly_ had experience with mixed martial arts along with karate or tae kwon do.

They had also been given food and water, and were not sleep-deprived.

They _were_ refreshed, and obviously well-taken care of, training and otherwise.

The fights seemed to go on endlessly.

Alex made the mistake once or twice of not finishing up a fight in less than two minutes—the amount of guards doubled for the next 'sub-round.'

He was beginning to realize that is was some sort of game, and an incredibly cruel and twisted one at that.

The race against the clock, of sorts—the stakes were high, and the odds against him.

There were rules to the game—not finishing in time doubled the attackers, killing a guard added an attacker and shortened the time by a minute (Renè _knew_ that knocking an opponent unconscious was _much_ more difficult than trying _not_ to kill).

He also noticed that every ten sub rounds of fighting, every twenty minutes, weapons changed.

At first it had been martial arts and other unarmed hand-to-hand combat, next had been knifes, and thirdly had been unusual dart guns—gave the sensation of a real bullet without the damage—very painful.

He was dreading what the next round would be.

The teen was utterly exhausted, a knife wound roughly bandaged around his left shoulder—the agony was horrible, and his left arm nearly useless, plus multiple bruises and cuts along his body.

Luckily, the dart guns were almost done—and the pain only lasted per fight, which was a slight relief.

He was dreading what Renè had in store for next—it had almost hit the one-hour mark.

At least the last round of dart guns was over.

Alex was horrified for what came next.

Four kids came in.

Two girls, two boys—no, it wasn't surprising of the gender, there had been plenty of women that had fought in the 'game'—what was revolting were the ages.

They were between eight and twelve.

Younger than him.

They were trained.

They had the same dead look that he had _(too easily)_ learned to cover up—especially while undercover, the same haunted look that had seen too much, that had _lost_ _too much_.

The same mechanical way of moving and talking, automatically—no hints of any true emotion.

Eyes of a killer.

Cold-blooded killer.

They were like _him._

Trained at birth, forced into a world too early, a world they _didn't belong in_.

After doing the usual-dragging out the four unconscious bodies out, they faced him.

Alex cautiously took a step back, palms upward in a peace-gesture.

On _no_ circumstances was he going to fight these kids.

"Don't worry—I'm a friend. I'm like you guys."

He cursed inwardly when he realized they most likely didn't know English (—_yet, _it wouldn't take long for Renè to make sure they were well-versed in multiple languages), and was about to try other languages when they began attacking.

The teen _tried_ to stop himself from hurting them or permanently injuring them—they were _good_, but not as good as _him_. They would definitely be trained assassins in no time, Renè had obviously been working them hard.

Renè must've realized that eight to twelve-year-olds were no match for him.

She abandoned all the rules.

It was no longer four people—over six per sub-round, and not only kids—adults were being added to the mix, along a range of different weapons.

Knives, dart-guns, _real_ guns, mini-stun grenades and even gas.

It was too much.

He couldn't go on, he was _overwhelmed,_ and _past_ the point of exhaustion.

Almost two hours of constant fighting and after two days deprived of food and water... he was losing the fight.

Struggling to gain _some sort of leverage_, he was losing the fight.

Pain shot up his left shoulder as he realized it had been dislocated, and the knife-wound reopened, bleeding sluggishly.

He had his back to the wall, trying to avoid the worst of the blows, suppressed as his defense was falling apart.

His vision was blurring, now—black darkness fuzzing around the edges, he was on the verge of unconsciousness.

The door clicked open, and soldiers began piling in, heavy machine guns ready to go off if necessary—it was the SAS, along with SWAT teams—Britain and the U.S must've joined together temporarily.

His relief sagged as he realized he had survived yet another mission.

Survived with scars.

Endured the pain, and had _kept on fighting_.

* * *

It was never intended to be easy, the life of a spy. You have to continue fighting past the point of exhaustion, even when injured, bloody, and sore.

* * *

**Feedback is appreciated- positive or negative. **


	8. Reliability, Credibility

**I'm so sorry- I was _planning_ on having this posted, like, a week ago, but I didn't write it fast enough (which is why I'm going to update either on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day- what do you think?). I have to say- thanks for the reviews! Sorry if I haven't replied to you. Replies will now be on my profile. ****Also, Blunt plays a mainish role in this story- more like as the villain, so there are more office/Blunt scenes to come. **

**A quick shout out to Armand and 3326freespirit who inspired the idea for having K-Unit (e pluribus unum), and Vivianne95 for this chapter's lesson.**

**(Slight warning- child pornography is _briefly_ mentioned, but nothing graphic- at all.) **

**I do not own Alex Rider.**

O-o-O-o-O

"The mission?"

"A success, sir. A few minor injuries, no casualties," Wolf answered crispy.

Alan Blunt nodded. "Good. And Alex Rider?"

Wolf glanced at Snake. "Our medic looked him over."

Snake nodded. "I did the best I could with the supplies on hand. I highly recommend one week minimum in the hospital, and at least another two weeks of resting."

Blunt studied the medic methodically. "I am sure Alex will be fine; he can take care of himself."

"Of course, sir," Snake answered coolly.

The other three soldiers (it was _awesome_ having Fox temporarily back in the unit for now) exchanged glances. They could tell that Snake was angry- the professional tone mixed with cool countenance- and they knew a clenched jaw when they saw one.

There was a soft knock at the door.

K-Unit watched as a familiar teenager entered.

Alex looked weary for a moment, his face a sickly pale, along with the obvious sag in his shoulders.

Then he saw K-Unit.

He straightened up, suddenly radiating confidence as he pulled on a cocky smile, hands casually swinging by his sides, any traces of the weariness from the earlier fight now gone.

K-Unit blinked. It was the change was so sudden, almost as if he never had been tired.

"K-Unit, Mr. Blunt." Cub nodded to them each in turn.

"Alex, come join us,"

Although Blunt was seemingly welcoming him, Fox could see approval in his eyes- not a familial pride, but the satisfaction of owning and teaching a dog a new trick.

"Are you okay, Cub?" Eagle asked, brow furrowed with worry. "Snake said you would need a hospital."

Cub kept his tone light and carefree. "No need to worry about me- I'll be fine," he reassured them, before sending Blunt a quizzical look.

"On other matters... Alex will need protection for another five days, you can handle it, correct?"

Despite being posed as a question, K-Unit knew that it was a direct order.

"Yes, sir," they chorused.

Blunt looked at the boy. "Alex?"

The teen ducked his head respectively. "Of course, sir," he said quietly.

K-Unit stared. Even at Brecon Beacons, Cub had _hated_ the word 'sir,' and now he was _openly_ being respectful to a man he hardly knew?

Something weird was going on.

"Why only five days?" Snake questioned.

"His parents are coming back to England on Saturday," Alan Blunt explained.

Cub's breaths hitched, and Fox briefly saw a flick of pain in his eyes before it disappeared.

Snake squinted, as if deciding whether or not he was going to accept the answer, but let it go.

"I believe Mrs. Jones has the file you need," Blunt informed them. His eyes snapped to the boy. "Go get it, Alex."

The teen stiffened, and Fox wondered if he was going to refuse the direct order- but he didn't.

Alex visibly relaxed, tugging that strange smile back on. He stood quickly. "Of course, sir," the boy nodded sharply, and made a move to leave.

"Wait, Cub," the older spy ordered softly before glancing back at the powerful man. "That won't be necessary. We can easily get it on our way out."

Alex had stopped right next to the door; although he sent Fox a confused look, his attention was mainly focused on Alan Blunt.

Blunt completely ignored the older spy. "Leave, Alex," he repeated, voice hard.

Cob nodded professionally. "Of course, sir." He sent a reassuring smile to K-Unit. "I'll be right back."

The boy left.

"You are not to ask Alex any questions about MI6, or to tell him anything you know," Blunt commanded. "Alex knows very little about SO- keep it that way. As you understand, his personal data is classified."

"Yes, sir," K-Unit chorused

Wolf hesitated. "Is there anything we should be specifically protecting him from?"

"Alex comes from a rich political family- and thus, there they are political threats," Blunt drawled on. "His father's enemies will most likely specifically hire terrorist organizations or hitmen- they will not do the dirty work themselves." Alan Blunt stared at them. "You are dismissed."

Once outside the office, there was a moment of silence.

"Anyone else finds it odd that Cub knows how to get to Mrs. Jones' office when he's only been here once?" Eagle wondered aloud.

O-o-O-o-O

"What's that?" Alex peered curiously at the device Ben held in his hand.

They had been at the safehouse for less than fifteen minutes; Cub had come back downstairs after claiming a room. Ben smiled softly at the kid. "It's a bug-sweeper- it's protocol to search the room, even a safehouse, before we settle in."

The boy's eyes lit up. "Cool! So it's like, a spy gadget?"

K-Unit exchanged secret smiles. Cub actually sounded like a typical kid- excited at the mere _mention_ of something remotely connected to spies.

Ben nodded, shifting the small box around the room. "Uh-huh," then, "Do you want to try it?"

Alex grinned. "Really? You'll let me?"

Ben chuckled. "OF course- as long as you're careful with it." But he _knew_ Cub was careful- after all, they _had_ trained together at BB.

"Thanks, Ben." Alex carefully took the device, holding it like some ancient relic, before going upstairs. "I'll be right back, I'm going to debug my room!"

Ben mentally reminded himself to double-check Alex's work, just in case.

But there wasn't any need- as the first thing Alex had done was thoroughly search it, already having found two.

The teen sighed, finally dropping the mask as he closed the door behind him.

He had recognized Smithers' work immediately- but even he knew he had to find a way to make _sure_ MI6 hadn't planted any bugs on him.

Cautiously, Alex moved the device across his clothes, frowning when the machine chirped as it crossed his upper-back.

Ah. _There_.

Bingo.

It was a skin-toned patch right under the bandages for his chest. Smithers must've developed it to not trigger any nerves, because he didn't feel a thing when he tore it off. Alex studied it closely- it wasn't a listening device, but a tracker.

He didn't destroy it- he wasn't _that_ stupid.

No, he had other plans.

The spy grinned wolfishly.

It was time for phase two.

O-o-O-o-O

"Why weren't you sent directly to a hospital, Cub?"

The rest of K-Unit froze, the poker chips and cards momentarily forgotten.

Snake _never_ started conversations like this- he only gave small bits of advice and information, or commented here and there- valuable information, yes, but it was factual, short and to the point.

Cub shrugged, easily brushing it off. "A medic looked me over on the way here, he said I was fine."

"Why are you lying to us?" Eagle asked coldly. "You were unconscious while _Snake_ patched you up."

The spy tensed. It had been a stupid mistake- one that would've gotten him killed in the field. He had merely assumed out of eight Units that had taken over Renè's training facilities, it would have been _K-Unit_ of all of people to find him.

"I didn't want you to worry about me," the boy mumbled. "Besides, I hate hospitals."

"If you're _hurt, _ you need to tell someone," Wolf reprimanded. "Understand?"

Cub nodded, inwardly musing. Even if he _was_ hurt, he wouldn't dare tell anyone- he would get in trouble with Blunt if he let too much information slip.

"I still need to check them over- they may need to be cleaned again," Snake told him.

Cub hesitated, but finally relented. "Fine, but just... not alone."

Fox's eyebrows shot up.

Cub was embarrassed, but it had been necessary- ever since the child pornography mission a couple months back, he had made sure he was never in a vulnerable position with adults. Thank god, he hadn't been molested or anything... but _all the kids who _**_had;_** it had been merely luck that it hadn't happened to him. He inwardly shuddered.

"That's fine," Snake said softly. "Eagle, can you get the First Aid?" he directed the question to the soldier, who nodded, immediately leaving the room.

"Now?" Cub asked weakly.

There it was again: the slight hesitation. Cub was definitely hiding something, Fox deducted.

Snake nodded. "Now, Cub," he gestured to the couch, and Cub reluctantly sat on it as Eagle entered the room with the necessary medical supplies.

"Shirt off, Cub," Snake ordered quietly.

The boy stiffened, but grudgingly pulled the t-shirt off.

His torso was smooth, slightly lighter skin, his muscles toned. Oddly enough, the teenager had no body fat.

At _all._

They hadn't realized how _skinny_ he was.

Still, relief flooded into the soldiers- although there were several large bruises from the fight yesterday, along with his other injuries, Cub didn't seem to have any scars or remnants of previous wounds.

Snake sighed, satisfied. "Good, Cub. Your shoulder is healing nicely." _And you_ _don't have any previous injuries we don't know about._

"Yeah, we were, like, afraid you had a bunch of secret scars and stuff," Eagle joked.

Cub strained a smile. "Yeah, 'course not."

Snake continued to work in silence- but it didn't last.

"How much do you weight, Cub?" Fox questioned, knowing if he hadn't asked, another K-Unit member would.

"I dunno... maybe 75 kilograms?"

Snake shook his head. "You definitely don't weigh that much- and you need to be minimum 68."

Cub looked down.

"When was the last time you ate?" Wolf studied their charge carefully.

Cub raised an eyebrow in confusion. "With you guys... dinner, remember?"

"Before that."

Cub's tone was still relaxed. "The plane."

"_Before_ that," Wolf repeated.

"They fed me right before the fighting started," Cub lied smoothly.

"You're lying."

The teen glared at Fox, who was leaning lazily against the wall, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Tell us the truth, Cub," Wolf ordered softly.

Cub closed his eyes, refusing to answer.

K-Unit sobered. They saw Cub's muscles visibly tense. It was like... like he was preparing himself for pain.

They weren't going to force it out of him- but had other people tried to do it before?

It was obvious silence was the only answer they were going to receive- and it was enough. And at least, although Cub wasn't saying anything, he wasn't _lying_ either.

It was _worse_, when Cub opened his eyes, and he was almost... _surprised_.

Snake shook his head, getting back to work. It was when he peered more closely at the kid when everything went wrong.

"These are skin grafts, Cub," Snake said softly. "Why on _earth_ would you have a _skin graft transplant?!_"

K-Unit stared.

Cub froze. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He had been lucky enough, on the mission right before Renè, to have an assignment that had required covering up his scars- some swimming competition. He had been somewhat confident until Snake had realized what there were.

Wolf shook his head. "I don't want to know- nor are we allowed to ask."

K-Unit winced. Right... there was that _little_ warning from the _head_ of MI6 telling them _not_ to ask questions.

Fox narrowed his eyes, suspicious. _What are you hiding, Cub?_

O-o-O-o-O

_As soon as he left Mrs. Jones' office, he opened the folder. It had the usual information- their cover, keys, addresses, etc. But... there was even cash, and some credit cards._

_In the end, he took one of the credit cards, along with 100 pounds' worth of notes._

_K-Unit didn't suspect a thing; after all, it was only an already-rich teenager of a powerful political figure... right?_

O-o-O-o-O

Alex frowned, staring hard at the door.

Even locked, it wouldn't hold off an angry (or worried, he reminded himself) unit for more than a few seconds- he just hoped he would be back before they realized he was gone.

The spy had easily noticed their usual night check-up on him for the past two days- it had been hard, trying to act like a normalish teenager to let down their guard, and try to get them to trust him a little- it could only work to his advantage for what he was planning.

But he only had another three days- and five days total to properly plan out and execute his disappearing act.

For a while he had been ready and waiting for the right opportunity had come- and now here it was, right at his fingertips.

Blunt had recognized the importance of keeping him isolated while not on missions- a few days here, a couple days there- but not properly enough time to form trusting relationships to use- because that's all what they could be now. The relationships themselves were a hindrance- a means to be used against him... unless, of course, he could get something out of it.

He could.

And he _would._

The one mistake on Blunt's part had been thinking Alex _wouldn't _ try taking advantage of this particular situation- perhaps Blunt had thought he would pretend for a short while that he had an actual family; a (_fake)_ family that would worry about him, care for him, even... protect him?

The spy chuckled dakly at the thought.

How gullible.

How _childish_.

Stalking towards the window, the teen cautiously eased the it open.

Alex hesitated- it was too much of a risk to jump; one for the noise, two for his recently-broken-but-kinda-healed-leg. Normally, it wouldn't be a problem- even with the risk involved, but... this was his one chance- and he wasn't going to blow it.

One of the first things he had noticed while studying the exterior of the house, was that the pattern of the bricks slightly jutted out, seemingly for decoration. Although Ian hadn't _quite_ taught him to master climbing a sheer brick wall, the few centimeter handholds were decent, at least until he could jump without the risk of being caught.

Smirking slightly, the teen knew it wasn't over- he still had a task.

Alex set a brisk pace toward the edge of town- even in the dark of the night, there was still the (slim) possibility of cars driving by and seeing a boy run.

He met up with R in the usual alley- the one she used to meet with customers.

Alex had met R on a mission a few months back: she had saved his life by backing up his hastily-made-on-the-spot-cover. All in all, R was a decent woman- especially for a criminal.

It didn't matter how many times they had saved eachother from both death or prison- Alex didn't know her real name, nor she his.

It was perfect.

"I need a favor," Alex began.

R snorted. "It's good to see you, too, Travis." She raised an eyebrow. "Well? What is it this time?"

"A passport- and some fake papers," Alex, or rather, Travis explained. "I'm leaving the country this Friday- I need a fresh start, I was thinking France?"

R shrugged. "Shouldn't be hard to whip up something quick- you'll probably need something more permanent once you get there, but it'll work in a pinch. Besides, anything for an old friend, right?"

Yeah, a couple months meant he was an old friend- he really had been in this business to long.

"Sounds good."

R jerked her head to the door of her workshop. "You coming? It won't take long."

A few hours later, Alex was fifty pounds lighter (courtesy of MI6- oh, the irony) and one new identity richer.

O-o-O-o-O

_"You're a good kid, Cub." Eagle smiled softly. "We trust you- and I hope you trust us. We got your back- we're not going to let you get hurt." _

O-o-O-o-O

"Fox?"

The older spy glanced up from his book. "What is it, Cub?"

Ben studied the teen- he looked almost... _embarrassed_. The blush, the hesitation, the way he was avoiding eye contact, and that he seemed uncomfortable.

Yes, Cub was _embarrassed._

"Well, um... I was wondering if I could Skype my friend?" Cub's eyes were hopeful.

"And you need a laptop for that," Ben supplied.

Cub shuffled his feet. "Yeah..."

The teen froze as Fox began to drum his fingers on the wooden chair.

Ben blinked, abruptly stopping the movement.

Alex relaxed.

Alex... _relaxed_.

Ben realized he was still waiting for an answer. "Of course you can borrow my laptop," he said smoothly, carefully filing away the time for later; he knew the basics of computers, and would be able to track Alex's movements to see if the timestamp matched.

The kid's face broke into a grin. "Thanks, Fox!"

Fox nodded, smiling as he quickly set it up for him, before Cub took the laptop upstairs to his room.

Ben closed his eyes.

Something was _wrong_.

It was like... Cub had been _scared_ when he started rapping his fingers on the chair- it wasn't _that_ bad a habit, just one Ben had developed when he was thinking.

"Maybe you remind him of someone," a voice said quietly.

Fox looked up at the soldier.

Snake had witnessed the entire exchange, seemingly reading his mind as he searched for answers on Cub's weird behavior.

Ben mildly hummed in agreement.

Cub was scared of something, and he was determined to find out _what_... or **_who_.**

O-o-O-o-O

Alex entered his room, his _(fake)_ smile disappearing, along with his confidence level.

The wary and tired look returned, along with the slumped shoulders.

He didn't have much time- by the end of the week, he would either be out of the country on a mission or on the run.

That, and he knew Ben would later check what he had been up to on his laptop.

Wasting no time, the teen quickly accessed his Skype account, setting up the link that would later confirm a 47 minute, 18 second call to someone named Ryan Williams, a rich friend that would easily fit into his cover story as a son of a politician.

As a spy, it was necessary for survival to learn computer and hacking skills- one of the reasons he was still alive.

Luckily, it didn't take long to create and connect several proxies to cover his tracks.

Alex chewed his lip thoughtfully. Now was the hard part.

He accessed the credit card's bank account.

Yes, it had been easy to swipe from the file Jones had given him, but actually _withdrawing_ the money.

The spy sent 15,000 pounds through several different offshore accounts, along with filtering it through a variety of shell companies before it rested, virtually untraceable, into an account MI6 had no knowledge of him owning.

The most difficult part had been creating the fake transaction, making sure the money would not appear missing until he was long gone; although it would only last a few days, it was enough.

And Alex was 15,000 pounds richer.

He only had _one_ more purchase to make...

O-o-O-o-O

_"You know you can always come to us, right?" Wolf put his hands on the teen's slim shoulders. "I__f there's anything you need to tell us- we're here for you. W__e're a unit. A team. You're part that, Cub."_

O-o-O-o-O

Alex was _ready_.

Ready to _run_, ready to _leave_, and ready to_ get his freedom back._

There was only one thing left to do...

It was odd being back- back at his old house.

Ian had always insisted on being ready for anything- which mean having the necessary supplies at the ready.

It had been one drizzly afternoon that nine-year-old Alex had been digging a hole in the backyard- not to bury treasure, but to hide it.

Every year since then, Ian had made sure he had updated it.

True, Alex hadn't 'updated' it in nearly two years, but it would still be sufficient.

It was only a foot deep under, that Alex found the water-tight container containing a First Aid, nonperishable food, a hunting knife, some cash, a change of clothes that were useless, and, Alex smiled grimly, _hair dye_.

O-o-O-o-O

"Damn it! Are you sure?!" The man sounded worried, pacing the floor near Gate 23b, for a plane that would be boarding soon, headed for New York, the U.S. "Fine, I'll be right there." With that, he ended the call.

Bemused, a red-haired boy watched the man, along with several people who were waiting for the same flight.

"Hey, kid," the man nodded to him. "You want my ticket? It's first class, and I have to go."

The redhead blinked in surprise, before grinning. "Sure, thanks mister."

The boy was handed a slip of paper, before the man hurried out.

O-o-O-o-O

Alex Rider smirked, quickly heading toward the restroom.

Five minutes later, he walked out with a new hair color- brown.

It had been too easy to leave small traces of red hair dye in his old house, along with an empty package of red hair dye.

Of course, he had been careful to find a red-headed boy that was going on a flight to New York with the same built as him. Next, it was simple enough to buy a first-class ticket on the same flight, stage a scene in which he was an adult that would miss the flight, and merely make sure he gave the ticket to the said-boy. A bit complex, but the records would show a redheaded teenager by the name of Alex Rider, checking into a flight headed for America, while the _real_ Alex Rider would be on his way to Paris under his new name. The only tidbits of clues were set for MI6 to find, and lead them on a wild goose chase.

It was perfect- as perfect as any plan _could_ be, Ian had always drilled it into him that 'perfect' was merely a word, not a reality.

Staging his death would be ideal, but he didn't have the time or resources for that.

Alex Rider melted into his new identity, and the teenager boarded his one-way trip to France.

O-o-O-o-O

"Cub! Come down and get some breakfast!" Snake yelled from downstairs. "God knows you need it," he muttered under his breath.

"I'll go get him," Fox offered.

A minute later, Ben rushed down, visibly paler than before. "He's gone."

K-Unit sobered.

Wolf swallowed. All the talk about trusting, opening up, Cub had just upped and ran. "Any sign of him?"

Fox shook his head. "No, but there was no struggle- and he could have easily left hours ago. His rucksack is gone as well."

"Fox, try to track him- try to find anything that could lead us to him," Wolf ordered gruffly. "Snake, check the tube and bus stations, along with taxis." He turned to the last member. "Eagle, stay here if he comes back. I'll look on foot."

O-o-O-o-O

They searched for three hours before calling MI6- the amount protocol required.

"It's nothing that hasn't happened before," Mrs. Jones reassured them. "Alex has always been an... _unusual_ boy." She smiled. "It was Alex's choice to run away- and he is used to getting his own way."

K-Unit nodded, but still inwardly rejected the statement- that wasn't the Cub they knew.

"With all due respect, ma'm, it was my responsibility as unit leader, and one that I failed," Wolf said quietly. "For that, I apologize."

"No need," Alan Blunt said dully. "We'll find him."

A ghost of a smile. Then, the chilling words:

"We always do."

O-o-O-o-O

As a spy, you rely on no one. You are used, and in turn, you use other people.

O-o-O-o-O

**The first peek at K-Unit... not sure if I reached expectations or not- I know I should've had more Wolf and Eagle in it. Also, it felt rushed- I'll go through a re-write for this oneshot later.**

**So... tell me what you think. Loved it, hated it? **


	9. Runaway

**Thanks for the reviews/follows/favorites/views/etc. Happy/Merry Christmas! Well, depending on your culture/religion, anyways. Tell me if the italics made it confusing. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider.**

O-o-O-o-O

Alex closed his eyes.

It was a mess- the whole thing, from start to finish.

He had failed; making one mistake after the other.

"_You _can't _make mistakes, Alex. You can't _afford _to make mistakes- there are too many consequences."_

"Yes, Ian," he mumbled.

Ian had been an odd combination of a realist and a perfectionist- always pushing Alex to do his best, to his full potential, but only to what he was capable of._  
_

"_Alex- that was an _easy _punch to block," Ian scolded._

_His twelve-year-old nephew gasped for breath on the mat, doubled over from the blow to the solar plexus. "Sorry, Ian."_

"_It's not _me _you should be apologizing to, what have I _told _you about guarding your solar plexus?" Ian snapped. "In a real fight, you would have lost."_

_Alex looked blankly at him. The fights he lost were almost always against older students, or the teachers- and of course, the sparring he did with his uncle in their basement. Plus, at the dojo, there was always protective padding, and constant supervision by the instructors- the only brutal ones were against Ian, the fights without the protective padding, where he was pushed harder than ever._

_The older spy sighed, straightening up, automatically signalling the temporary break. "Alex, if you _lose _against someone, you are at their mercy- what if they wanted to kill you? You would have been _dead_."_

_Alex wouldn't know for another two years that his uncle's seemingly paranoia had kept the spy alive- the same kind of thinking he would later grow accustomed to, and rely on._

"_All mistakes have consequences, Alex," Ian said quietly. _

"_But it was an _accident_!" Alex blurted out, immediately regretting it._

"_Accidents are mistakes that need to be fixed."_

"Accidents are mistakes that need to be fixed," Alex muttered under his breath, repeating what Ian had told him years previously.

_Where had he gone wrong?_

"_Where did you go wrong, Alex?"_ The teenager imagined Ian asking critically.

"The credit card withdraw," Alex answered automatically, remembering.

He had been overconfident with covering his tracks online- he should have _known_ that the MI6 technicians would be monitoring the accounts carefully, building hidden security features he wouldn't know about. And of course, he hadn't thought of the pound-euro transaction.

_Alex almost smiled as he walked off plane._

_France- Paris, to be exact._

_He had a new identity, plenty of money to start him out- he just needed to switch out the pounds for euros._

_The spy smoothly went to the nearest machine. Ian had taught him how to make currency transactions at an early age, when they had their many trips and vacations._

_Alex frowned as the machine ate up the notes, but didn't spit out the euros in exchange. _What the-? _He had _just _seen it work for the person in front of him._

_The boy closed his eyes briefly. The pounds- MI6 had marked them. Which meant- he paled. They could track him. _

_The realization sunk in; it was only one of the many mistakes that sent his escape plan crashing to its knees._

_Alex immediately left the airport, constantly checking and double-checking the pedestrians around him._

_The machine hadn't given him any euros in return- but he still had his new bank account he could use. _That _was still untraceable._

_The spy quickly found out that the nearest ATM rejected the bank account- apparently, someone had frozen it_.

_He then realized the horrendous situation he was in._

Alex shook his head, clearing his thoughts.

"_And your other mistakes?"_ Ian pointed out.

"I know, I know," the teen grumbled. "The first step in fixing an accident is finding your mistake," he quoted. "A mistake- something that I know is false."

"_And?"_

"The security cameras," Alex breathed. "Not only were they able to track where I was- they knew what I looked like."

Even with the disguise... it hadn't been enough.

"_So we're looking for a redhead?"_

_Alan Blunt gazed hard at the lead agent in charge of finding Alex Rider. "No- Alex wouldn't have been careless enough to leave around traces of red hair dye, or the remnants of the package, either."_

_The agent frowned in confusion. "But the Airline records say Alex Rider landed in New York an hour ago- a redheaded boy."_

_Blunt chuckled dryly. "Call your agents off- our technicians said that Alex made two_ _airline ticket purchases- he wouldn't have been _stupid _enough to buy the ticket in his own name."_

_The agent blushed, flustered. "Of course, sir." He hesitated. "So we're not looking for a redhead _or_ an Alex Rider?"_

_Alan Blunt looked amused. "No, you're not. Tell your agents to take another look at the security footage at the airport- look for a man that _approached _the boy."_

"_A _man? _I thought you said-" the agent cut off abruptly, giving up the lost cause._

_Blunt thought for a moment, quickly analyzing the situation, and calculating the result. "Yes, a man- most likely looking in his early twenties, who approached a boy a few minutes before the plane took off. He would have avoided the cameras as best he could- most likely shielding his face, and went to a restroom right after- possibly an employee's," he mused. "The flight he was on- I believe the technicians confirmed it was France- would have left no later than thirty minutes after the the New York plane departed..."_

Alex should have realized not only would they have been able to track him, but they would have recognized him as well- not to mention how much he had underestimated Blunt being able to figure things out so quickly.

"_Even with the security footage, they wouldn't have been able to get a good enough description of your disguise," _Ian pointed out.

The teen froze. Of _course_. He hadn't realized- but he _should_ have, _should_ have realized MI6 were monitoring him closely- and were following him.

"_What the hell are you doing?!" R yelled as the MI6 agents dragged her into the black Sudan, arms restrained behind her, a bag over her head. "What are you arresting me on- _are_ there any charges?!"_

_Fifteen minutes later, she was glaring at the Director of MI6, in a room Alex always dreaded being in._

"_I believe you have something of mine," Alan Blunt began, immediately taking control._

"_What the hell are you talking about?" R snapped. "I've never seen you before in my life."_

"_You make fake passports for a living," Blunt drawled on. "I believe a boy by the name of Travis visited you several days ago, yes?"_

"_What about him?"_

"_I just need one simple thing- a copy of the passport you sold him."_

Alex closed his eyes.

He could imagine the rest- having been in that situation too many times to count.

Blunt would blackmail and manipulate until he got what he want- he just hoped Blunt would leave R out of it, he didn't want any more people caught in the mess he made.

"_What else did you forget?" _

"That Blunt has connections," he said quietly. "And I never stood a chance."

_Alex had been feeling more like a trapped animal each day- he didn't regret deciding to lay low in the city, there was more cover there. _

_But... it hadn't been very pleasant living in the back alleys for four days, scrambling to steal food each day, always on the lookout for the_ gendarmerie nationale_, the French Police- he hadn't realized Blunt could set up the manhunt for him so _fast_, he thought he would have at _least _been able to have some time to find a safe place to lay low before MI6 agents began sniffing around- but Blunt had _foreign _connections- something he hadn't counted on._

"_We're looking for this boy, have you seen him?"_

_Alex slowly backed into the shadows, recognizing the clipped, British accent- three agents were showing a picture to the other street urchins._

_By the time one of them had turned around, the spy was gone._

Alex inwardly shuddered. After that, it hadn't taken long for them to catch up to him.

"_We got him!"_

"_Get him under control- we have orders to restrain him!"_

_Pain splintered across his forehead as he struggled against the arms that held him down; his arms were wrenched behind his back, cold steel clicking into place, and someone else forced him to his knees-_

_He gasped for air, and suddenly he _couldn't see _because _there was a blindfold_, and- _

O-o-O-o-O

_Breathe in._

Breathe out.

_Inhale._

Exhale.

The teen forced in another shuddering breath, taking in the familiar _(dreaded) _grey walls, the blank room.

Then, a voice spoke- cold and hard, powerful and controlling.

"Welcome back, Alex; it's good to see you again."

O-o-O-o-O

You cannot afford to make mistakes- they will always have drastic consequences.

O-o-O-o-O

**Sowhatdoyathink?**


	10. Hide-and-Seek

**Happy New Years! As per usual, review replies are on my profile. Speaking of which, thanks for all the reviews and stuff! Like, 31 reviews has to be some kind of milestone- if not, I just made it one. Trust me, I would _not_ have thought up/wrote the past couple ones without you guys. FYI: K-Unit will enter not the next chapter, but the next one after that (I'll explain later); I already have some more plans for them later.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider.**

O-o-O-o-O

"I am not pleased with your recent behavior, Alex."

The boy cringed at the sharp tone, head drooping low.

After all this- his ingenious plan failing and him being caught- he _hated_ the aftermath; Blunt stating and restating his authority and power over him, critiquing him and-and _punishing_ him.

Blunt made him feel like a-an _animal_.

A dog on a leash- following the orders of its master.

"We could easily mark you as a rogue," Blunt continued. "Or blacklist and discard you."

_Discard_. Alex's jaw clenched. _Discard_, like he was- like he was some sort of _thing_, merely a _piece of equipment_ Blunt could just use and throw away.

_Discard_, like he wasn't even a human being.

"Even on this charge alone, we could arrest you on multiple accounts of terrorism and murder."

Yeah, right.

_Murder charges._

_Terrorism._

It wasn't like he had _saved_ the world several times over, not to mention the countless lives.

The teen didn't dare say it aloud- and he held back the hysterical laughter.

"However, we have _generously_ decided to drop all charges."

Alex stared.

Wait.

Was Blunt... actually suggesting that he was supposed to thank him? Like hell he was.

Alan Blunt drummed his fingers on the grey desk, methodically studying his agent. "Of course, this little 'stunt' of yours will not go without punishment."

The teen swallowed, bracing himself.

Blunt was a harsh master- he was, really, a master.

_His_ master.

The Director of MI6 solely and completely owned him; like a puppet on strings, Blunt controlled his every move.

The boy closed his eyes, fear and dread of the inevitable.

It would be a mission- multiple missions, _suicide_ missions.

Alan Blunt leaned forward, oozing power. "I assure you, Alex, in one weeks' time, you will no longer waste this agency's time with your futile escape attempts."

The teen froze.

The lips twitched into a(n almost) smile. "In fact, I don't believe you would be foolish enough to even try."

Alex's mind raced, trying to figure out what was going to happen to him.

_How would they do it?_

Or, worse still, _**what** would they do to him?_

They were low enough for torture, he knew, but what _kind_ would leave him broken _(you're already broken)_, but of still use to them?

Or-

The spy tensed.

_Training._

One week of time to train him to obey orders, to be completely and totally obedient to the intelligence agency- something they had _strived_ for in the beginning, something that Blunt had gotten so close to succeeding in.

Blunt continued to assess his agent, taking into account every reaction and emotion of the boy- no matter how minimal it seemed. "Dismissed."

Two agents entered, regarding the teen with a look of disdain and disgust, momentarily unclipping the cuffs, hauling him out of the chair. Alex winced, glaring as the steel returned to his wrists, which was _hell_ on his shoulder, thank you very much.

Alex still felt Blunt's eyes on his back as he left the room.

The spy contemplated running again- but his brilliant plan had already failed, and winging it certainly wasn't an option- especially with his arms cuffed behind his back and a dislocated shoulder, not to mention the other injuries MI6 had been so kind to give him.

Still, as Alex cautiously eyed the hands hovering over those dreaded tasers, he could imagine the powerful back-kick he could easily deliver to a soft spot before they stopped him.

The agent rolled his eyes. "Forget it, kid."

Alex scowled, merely allowing to agents to escort him down the dreary corridors.

Pieces clicked into place.

They were taking him... to his room.

It made him _sick_ to think that he actually _lived_ at the Bank, but his house had been recently sold, and offering him the money for renting a flat hadn't been on MI6's top priority list. Instead, he had to deal with a simple basement room- lightly carpeted, a small bathroom, and a hospital-like cot.

At least it was better than the Bank's holding cells or interrogation rooms- he had been to both multiple times, and he didn't have good memories to go along with them.

The agents led him into the room; the head agent released the handcuffs.

Alex watched as they left, locking the door behind them; he was puzzled.

If this wasn't training, or torture... what was it?

O-o-O-o-O

The spy jolted awake as the door opened; the light flickered on abruptly.

Alex rolled off the bed, dropping into defense stance, shaking himself awake as the room flooded with MI6 agents.

He only managed to get a few hits in before he was stunned by a taser on a low setting.

The teen panicked, feeling helpless as more hands pushed him down.

"Quiet, Rider. We had orders to restrain you," the lead agent smoothly cut in. "And we aren't taking you anywhere."

The boy growled. _Restrained?_ For _what_, exactly?

It didn't matter- only that Alex knew he needed to _get out._

He was still struggling (it was useless- _damn_ those tasers), even as rough hands pulled him up, forcing him back in the cot on his stomach, damaged shoulder screaming agony as his arms were locked above him, handcuffed to the bar that acted as a headstead.

The teen twisted about, eyes widening when he saw another person enter the room, holding a tray of medical supplies. "No! Please, I-"

Someone brought out a gag, and the boy was silenced, glaring as it tightened around his mouth.

He had an inkling of what they were going to do- but he couldn't be sure.

_Danger!_ His instincts screamed at him. _Threat!_

The agents held him down as his shirt was torn off of him, and the Evil MI6 Agent came closer, and he saw the contents of the tray, it-it had-

Antiseptic.

A scalpel.

Bandages.

Needle.

Thread.

He took in a shuddering breath-

A small pair of pliers.

And-and he knew he wouldn't see it, but- a small chip, the size of a grain of rice.

The kind of chips used on cats and dogs, except it didn't just have information on a scanner- it was...

A tracker.

Because they weren't trying to take anything _out._

They were putting something_ in_, and they would specifically choose a place where it would be nearly impossible to find, or retrieve- and definitely not something he could take out himself (and they _knew_ he didn't have anyone to take it out, let alone someone he actually _trusted_).

It wouldn't be hard- scalpels would easily make the cut, and needle-like pliers could insert things deep- he wouldn't ever find it.

The simple tracker would easily fix MI6's runaway spy- it was the end of his freedom, the end of any chance of him _ever_ being free of MI6.

MI6 could, and _would_ track his every move, and-and it was only another way for him to prove and confirm that they _owned_ him. Blunt had already told him multiple times that Alex was their property, but inserting a chip like _that_, like he was some sort of_ animal_, or _machine_ that was used by MI6...

The worst thing was, it wouldn't even hurt that much- not painfully, anyway. It was ironic, really. His back had sustained far worse things, but this chip would leave the deepest scar, that he was-

Alex's breaths quickened, hyperventilating as the EMA bent over him with a scalpel.

The boy tensed, flinching as the blade cut two lines on his right shoulder, criss-cross.

He grew more frenzied, wild when the EMA switched out the scalpel for the pliers, his back arching away from the device that held the tracker; the spy heaved, trying his last desperate _(useless) _chance for freedom, but the agents easily controlled him.

He gasped in pain as the pliers dug into his shoulder, the gag muffling any noise made.

Suddenly, it was done.

The EMA applied several stitches, cleaning and bandaging the small wound.

The boy recoiled away from the harsh hands; he closed his eyes, drained.

O-o-O-o-O

The spy stayed under constant guard for the next week, the cuffs only removed for short restroom and meal breaks.

He spent most of the time resting, trying to sleep. Alex knew as soon as the cut was healed Blunt was going to ship him off to god-knows-where, it was best to take advantage of the 'leave' he was given (Blunt certainly had a twisted sense of humor).

Gradually, the cut healed over, and the guards left.

As soon as he was sure he was alone, Alex examined the stitches. He ran his hand over the cut, looking at the X that would forever be burned into his memory- that he was being monitored, tracked, for the rest of his life.

His freedom was gone.

His last hope... shattered- the hope that, someday, he would leave eventually leave the spy world for good.

O-o-O-o-O

Alex felt numb.

Numb and detached.

He didn't feel connected to the world- how had he _gotten_ this way?

Could two years _really_ change people that fast?

He forced himself to stop- just... _stop_.

There was no need to look at past mistakes, to wallow in self pity- he had the _present_ to think about.

Or the future.

The teen almost laughed aloud. His future was a bullet to the head.

_His_ future was completing suicide missions until MI6 decided he wasn't useful anymore, when they would put him down _(like a dog- except they wouldn't __kill him to put him out of his misery)._

His future was- this time he _did_ laugh, hysterical and insane. _Hell_, what was he _talking_ about? He didn't even _have_ a future.

Even when the agents came for him exactly one week later, he didn't fight.

He didn't fight when they led him to the dreaded room- the office in which it had all started.

He didn't fight when the agents led him to the chair; he didn't even look at them as they left- leaving him to his master.

"Have learned your lesson, Alex?"

The broken boy didn't look up. "Yes, sir," he answered quietly.

Quiet and submissive.

Blunt continued to observe him, as if he was merely an experiment- one that he himself had conducted. "Very good." His lips twitched. "Do you know what happens when a dog disobeys its master?"

The teen paled, mouth dry.

Alan Blunt continued. "The master yanks on the leash- and, of course, a punishment is given." A pause. "Is this understood?"

Alex closed his eyes. "Yes, sir."

"You have disobeyed me, Alex. You may have learned your lesson, but you must suffer under the consequences of your actions... And, as you know, the consequences of a spy are quite severe. The collar has been made, but it is time for the leash to be yanked..."

O-o-O-o-O

You will be easy to track down. In the world of spies and espionage, there is no such thing as hiding: your enemies will always find you. And when they do, you will pay for your disobedience.

O-o-O-o-O

**Thoughts?**


	11. Low Risk

**Can I just say, you guys rock?! Because you do. Seriously. I mean, 46 reviews?! _46 reviews._ Even if you didn't review, you're still amazing- especially if you've stuck with me so far. It definitely takes some perseverance.**

**Oh, and if you want more of that master/dog relationship between Blunt/Alex, go to Apple in the Ocean's _Price of a Collar_, it's awesome!**

**I'm posting a new story on Sunday- ideas are still fuzzy for this one. It'll be completely different from this one, in a way- so yeah (trust me, this one _is_ cute and funny... any guesses on what I'll be doing?). Individual review replies are on my profile. (Oh, and you know how I said K-Unit would come in next oneshot? I was wrong, they're in this one.) **

**Kaira Haze- If you're reading this, go to my profile for a more detailed reply.**

**This chapter is more of a filler than anything... sorry if that bothers you at all. More stuff will happen next oneshot.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider.**

O-o-O-o-O

Alex leaned tiredly against the two men that were on either side of him.

One of the soldiers swore. "Come on kid, pull it together- we're almost to the plane, we'll have a medic tend to you until you can get to a hospital- and some food, too. Sounds good?"

The teen didn't have the energy to respond, but nodded slightly.

Another mission, done and complete.

_"You will complete back-to-back missions until you are cured of this behavior."_

_The spy froze._

_Back-to-back missions._

**_Back-to-back missions._**

_"Is this understood?"_

_Alex's face was carefully blank, none of the inward panic showing. "Yes, sir."_

_"Very good."_

Back-to-back missions were _horrible_\- there was _no_ leave, _no_ time to rest or have what little amount of time Blunt allowed him for _recovering._

The retrieval teams would keep him alive on the plane home- the medics patching him up as best they could until he was sent to a hospital somewhere- but he never was. Alex would be escorted to the Bank by MI6 agents for a debriefing before being briefed on his next mission and-

Alex _hated_ them.

It showed just how much power and control Blunt had over the spy- he alone knew the amount of pressure it would take for Alex to break.

And-and Blunt knew_ exactly_ when he would crush under the weight, and bolt- but he always got in trouble for it.

Blunt would _still_ punish him for... for doing something that the Director of MI6 _expected_ and _wanted_ because Alex didn't want to be _killed_ because of the stress that came from malnutrition, cracked ribs, or the dislocated fill-in-the-blank.

Blunt valued Alex as a weapon, yes, and in some twisted way, he knew how to keep him alive, even through the pain and exhaustion of back-to-back missions.

It had been three weeks since that day in the office, an entire _month_ since his small taste of freedom... and when the microchip had been inserted.

This would be his fourth completed mission.

He hadn't made one, single escape attempt- he knew he wouldn't get far. And trying to run away wouldn't give him the leave he needed- only Blunt could choose to give him leave... and he hadn't, yet.

The soldiers guided him into the plane, before the boy collapsed, exhausted on the metallic floor.

The soldier looked at him, concerned. "You OK, kid?" He shook his head. "Never mind," then, he yelled: "We need a medic over here!"

Immediately, another soldier came forward, presumably the medic.

Alex pushed himself into a sitting position. "'m fine, jus' tired."

The medic frowned, noticing the slurred speech. "Hold on, kid- I think you have a concussion."

Alex's eyelids grew heavy, and he felt himself on the verge of falling asleep.

The medic gently shook him. "Kid, you can't fall asleep if you have a concussion- wait till the hospital, yeah?"

Bleary-eyed, Alex wanted to argue that he wasn't_ going_ to a hospital, and that the three hours' plane ride back to England would be the _only_ chance he had to get his much-needed rest before Blunt sent him on another mission.

The soldier jerked him out of his musings.

"You sure took one helluva beating," the medic muttered, beginning the clean the many cuts that littered his body; it was also inevitable that at least a few his ribs were cracked, not to mention the bruises that were already forming.

The teen didn't answer, already drifting off, despite the soldier's protests.

He wasn't fully asleep- but his concentration and focus levels blurred out- his body was shutting down to only the basic functions; he had only been running off of four hours' of sleep and an adrenaline rush for the past three days.

He only remembered bits and pieces after that- someone feeding him, an agent escorting him off the plane and into a car, before arriving at a familiar bank...

O-o-O-o-O

Alex knocked twice before entering the dreary office.

He stood by the door, hands clasped behind him, shoulders back.

He didn't show any weakness- no fatigue from the lack of sleep or food, no sign of the injuries he had sustained.

The grey eyes examined the young agent. "Sit down, Alex."

He sat.

"The mission?"

"Only minor injuries- no casualties, their operation has been taken down, and the target has been apprehended, sir," the spy listed off mechanically. Unlike other agents, he neither confirmed nor denied that the mission was a success- his superior would determine if the assignment had been completed satisfactory; even if it was obviously accomplished correctly, Blunt could easily deem it otherwise.

"What of the Irma Meyer, the associate?" Alan Blunt asked harshly.

The spy tensed at his obvious displeasure. "Dead, sir."

A pause- a moment where the room became chilled by the grey man.

"That _is_ rather unfortunate..." Blunt drawled on. "We were planning on interrogating her, but now that these plans are _ruined_..."

"I apologize, sir," the boy stated, shoving down the pesky emotions that threatened to boil over. "It won't happen again."

"No, it won't," Blunt stated smoothly.

Alex's heart raced. Everything was coming crashing down- he had tried _really_ hard to please Blunt: he hadn't asked for leave or medical attention, he hadn't complained when Blunt sent him on four missions in a row- he hadn't even tried running away- not once!

And _hell_, he had done something _wrong_ and Blunt was _displeased,_ and-and he was-was going to-

Part of him realized that t wasn't his fault- that _Blunt_ had originally put him in the situation in the_ first_ place.

But then he would remember- then he _did_ remember.

He remembered all the _pain_ that happened when he disobeyed Blunt- the exhaustion of completing missions, the knowledge that he would _never be normal,_ the horrible memories of what he had _seen_, and what he had _done_

That-that no matter _what_ he tried to undo his past mistakes... the man could change his status- not as a _human being_, but lower it to where he _wasn't_ considered human; Blunt made him feel _less_ than a human, and only the powerful man could change- change it _back_... but he wouldn't- not until he _was_ pleased with him.

Again, anger flared, and again, he pushed it down, replacing it with as much calm as he could muster for the time being.

He needed to try- _one more time_... maybe Blunt would relent?

"Permission to take leave, sir?" The boy asked respectfully.

Blunt looked amused. "Denied."

Alex closed his eyes.

And the briefing for his next mission began.

O-o-O-o-O

She saw him before he noticed her- the first unusual thing that tipped her off.

Mrs. Jones had been in Tel Aviv for a month, smoothing over the shaky alliance MI6 had with Mossad. She had just gotten back, and was about to report back to Alan Blunt.

Alex was just coming out of the office; his mask crumbled as the he shut the door softly behind him.

The teen looked _exhausted_.

The face that had been alert and focused became drawn and weary.

His stance- one that was commonly seen among the agents, or even a soldier- changed to one that was slumped and defeated.

The eyes- ones that were clearly tired- closed.

The boy leaned against the wall, seemingly for support.

His frame- if possible- had grown thinner; the ragged clothing covering the bandages that were undoubtedly there.

But there were no agent-escorts leading him around in cuffs- no obvious signs that he had been beaten up by a group of agents set upon him by Blunt (it sickened her that he used those types of _punishments_ for 'keeping him in his place,' especially... on a _child_).

No, Alex had recently come back from a mission- he had been _obedient,_ to some extent.

"Alex,"

The reaction was immediate.

The teen's eyes shot open; his stance stiffened, arms at his sides. "I apologize, ma'am, I was just leaving."

Mrs. Jones felt completely unprepared at the teenager's odd personality change. "May I ask where you are going?"

Confusion briefly flickered over the boy's expression, before it was blanked out. "The Disguise Department, ma'am."

Realization hit her.

He was being sent on another mission- despite the fact that he obviously had just come back from one. Usually, Blunt would allow at _least_ one nights' rest and a meal before the next assignment. What was different about this time? Was Alex still serving some sort of punishment for running away? It had been over been a month ago!

Mrs. Jones smiled softly, although she was inwardly dreading the conversation. "Still being punished for running away?"

The spy flinched.

It spoke volumes more than what words could give her.

It also occurred to her that Alex wasn't being very responsive- only the basics of his functions were working. The boy was only focussing on answering the questions themselves, not trying to figure out why she was answering them. Only his occupation as a spy would have allowed him to hide his emotions, making it seem like he was wide-awake and alert.

"You are dismissed, Alex."

The boy nodded once, respectfully, before leaving.

A peppermint was unwrapped.

O-o-O-o-O

"How was Tel Aviv?" Alan asked, as soon as the formal greetings were done.

"It went well," Mrs. Jones answered. "Our ties with Mossad are stronger after the incident was cleared up." She hesitated. "I saw Alex."

Mrs. Jones saw the first flicker of emotion from him- almost... was that... _amusement?_

"His personality has completely changed," she continued. "What happened to him this past month?" Or, a question that would have been too dangerous to ask: _What did you **do **__to him?_

Blunt seemed to get the message. "I merely put him in his place- where he belongs," the dry words continued. "Since then, he has been obedient as ever- it is definitely a change for the better."

"He is _exhausted_," Mrs. Jones defended.

Alan raised an eyebrow, as if to say, _So what?_

Her lips tightened minutely. "He won't be able to complete another mission in his state."

There was a pause.

Mrs. Jones inwardly shuddered at the words that came next.

"Of course he won't."

O-o-O-o-O

Alex stumbled forward, one foot after another, on the sidewalk.

142a.

142b

143a.

Ah- there.

_143b_.

He was on the right street- he knew, but in his exhausted state, he needed to be careful.

It had been the first time he had quit a mission, halfway through, only because Blunt had lied to him about him being the only agent- in fact, there were at least _three_ other MI6 agents assigned to the mission. Alex knew that he wasn't necessary- and that he _desperately _needed rest. He was _so_ tired, ready to just _collapse-_

_No,_ he scolded himself. He was _almost there_.

Just- a few more steps, and he was there.

O-o-O-o-O

A knock on the door.

Ben Daniels paused from bringing the box of beer upstairs.

It couldn't be the rest of K-Unit already- they were coming later tonight. could it?

He shrugged, dumping them cases of beer onto the counter. "Coming!" Fox called, heading over to answer the door.

Fox had barely enough time to open the door and cover his shock as a teenager shoved past him.

"Nice place you got."

The boy didn't seem to be paying any attention to the interior _(except for the best weapons handy and the easiest escape routes- but Fox didn't know that)_, and rushed through the living area, hardly _(seemingly)_ not giving it a second glance.

"What are you doing here?! Do you realize you almost got me _fired_ the other day, because you ran away from us? We were afraid some _terrorist_ group had found you, and '6 wasn't giving us _any_ details... and well, we were _worried_ about you."

"It wasn't terrorist group." Cub went over to the kitchen like he owned it _("...we own you, you are our property...")_, proceeding to the fridge and beginning to rummage through it. "No matter how much it seems like it," he muttered.

"You got anything to eat around here?"

Fox was still angry, this _kid_ had almost gotten him _fired_, not to mention _worried_ the _entire_ unit (even by itself, a difficult task)... and now he came into his house and started eating_ his_ food, that _he_ had bought?

"You sure have a lot of explaining to do, Cub."

Cub didn't answer, intent on eating; he finished making his sandwich and crammed it into his mouth.

He looked starved, Fox realized, just noticing the three-inch gash on his arm, blood seeping through a roughly tied bandage.

"If terrorists didn't do that, who did?"

The boy downed an entire glass of water before answering him. "I ran into a couple of particularly _nasty_ MI5 operatives. There was some communication problem between them and MI6—paperwork and all—in the mean time they were supposed to 'take care of me.' They didn't like me much after I—eh... put one of their men in the hospital." He shrugged. "Same old, same old." The spy was answering the questions on automatic; his instincts sluggishly responded to how much information was being divulged.

Fox frowned thoughtfully. "Can you at least tell me how you got my address?"

Alex smirked. "Hacked MI6's _oh-so-secure_ database." He felt bad for lying to Fox, but it was necessary- there was no way he had time to explain how Mrs. Jones had given it to him, or that she had told him to quit the mission, halfway through, and get some rest. He looked down. "Besides, I don't really have anywhere else to go."

Ben smiled softly, deciding to ignore the lie about hacking MI6, at least for now. "You're always welcome here, kid." He _did_ notice how tired Cub was. "And you should get some rest- take the guest bedroom, first door on the left."

Alex was relieved, but still hesitant. How long would it take for Blunt to realize he wasn't in MI5's custody, and send agents to pick him up? Suddenly, he refused to think about that- he just wanted to rest, now.

Rest and _forget_.

_("Ignorance is not bliss, Alex. You know that.")_

O-o-O-o-O

Alex awoke to the sounds of low voices in the other room.

He felt _so much_ better- but how long had he been asleep?

Although he was still a bit tired, it wasn't anything he couldn't handle- at least he was _functioning_ properly, now.

He opened to the door to find the sober expressions of K-Unit; of course Fox had called them up.

"How long was I asleep?" Cub demanded.

"Six hours," Fox answered, eyes searching him for answers.

_Six hours?_ Cub sat down next to Snake. He was surprised '6 hadn't retrieved (he still hated that word) him in _one._ "Why'd you let me sleep that long?"

Eagle gave him a funny look. "Why wouldn't we?'

"Teenagers are supposed to get nine hours of sleep per night," Snake pointed out. "And from what Fox tells us, it seems like you hadn't slept in a week."

_That would be about right_. "One in five teenagers get that much sleep," the boy immediately countered, feeling defensive for some reason.

Wolf rolled his eyes. "Enough. Cub, get some food- there's pasta on the stove."

As if in reply, Alex felt his stomach growl.

In no time at all, he had eaten one bowl. He barely managed down another half-a-bowl before he felt like throwing up.

But it was worth it. It felt _so good_; it was _amazing_ to have _real food_ going down his throat, and eating until he felt like bursting. He drank water, too- and a lot of it. Contrary to popular belief, he didn't starve on his missions in the way people expected- that he had been tortured. No, food merely took the backseat when it came to dodging bullets. It wasn't that people outwardly _starved_ him (in fact, throughout almost all the torture he had endured, he was almost always kept well-fed- they _did_ want to keep him alive, anyway), but he didn't have _time_ to care about his well-being.

By the time he was done, K-Unit were staring at him.

"There's plenty more where that came from, Cub," Fox said quietly. "You should eat more."

Cub's stomach protested at the thought of more food. "I'm fine- really," he assured them.

Wolf frowned, concerned. "Are you sure?"

Cub tugged a smile on. "'course I am- besides, I already had a sandwich. I'm stuffed, really."

Snake's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You're _full_... with a sandwich and a bowl of soup?"

Alex thought quickly, trying to backtrack. "You act like I haven't eaten all day! Come on, I already had lunch earlier."

Fox sighed. "Will you stop with the lies already?"

Wolf nodded in agreement. "Yeah- even without pulling off your shirt, we can tell you've lost more weight since we saw you last."

Cub stiffened.

There was a moment of silence- but it didn't last long.

Snake's expression morphed into one of horror. "Oh, _Cub_. Your stomach... it's shrunk, hasn't it?"

"That's why you're so skinny," Eagle breathed.

Alex felt sick. Snake's explanation made too much sense- why he couldn't eat food in large amounts, or that no matter how much his body _needed_ nourishment, he wouldn't be able to get the proper amount.

Cub dropped all pretenses. "I don't know," he admitted. "I mean... it's a possibility."

Fox was surprised at his honesty. "Thanks for telling us, Cub."

The boy looked uncomfortable.

"Can I look at your arm?"

Cub was confused by Snake's question, but then remembered his run-in with the MI5 agents- and the dull throb of the abuse that they had given him. In some ways, he had been lucky to have been caught by MI5 instead of '6- the tensions between the two branches were enough for '5 to _insist_ on all the protocol and paperwork... which meant more time to 'rest.' In others, like the laceration on his arm, not so much.

Alex grumbled, holding out his arm.

Snake carefully removed the bandages, examining the wound. "You're lucky it isn't infected- otherwise you would've needed stitches."

Eagle passed him the first aid, and the medic began to clean and re-bandage the wound.

"They have no right to treat you like this." Wolf's eyes burned with anger.

Cub said nothing, merely allowing Snake to continue his work.

"I'm finding it harder to believe you're the son of a politician," Fox fixed the teen with an intense gaze.

The boy muttered a quick thank-you when Snake was done, doing a good job of ignoring the other soldiers.

Finally: "I"m not allowed to tell you anything," he said quietly. _I'll get in trouble_. He felt sick- but it wasn't worth the risk.

Not now- especially since Blunt was mad at him.

Wolf studied the kid. He looked so... _broken_. He wasn't acting like some spoiled rich kid... he wasn't even acting like a normal _teenager_. But it was obvious he _wasn't_ a normal teenager.

"It's Ok, Cub. We know that," Eagle said softly.

The boy looked so... _relieved_. But why? He wasn't a stickler for the rules- there _had_ to be another reason.

Cub hunched over. "They'll be here soon."

Wolf's brow furrowed. "MI6? How the hell do they know where you are?"

"It's not healthy for you," Snake interjected. "You're not getting enough rest- or food, with them."

Cub's eyes glazed over, fingers brushing his shoulder, almost... reassuringly? But he didn't look relieved- he looked trapped- like an animal.

Fox noticed the subtle gesture.

Without warning, he was out of his chair, and in front of the boy. Before Cub had a chance to respond (which was rare of itself- him being caught so unaware), the soldier had yanked the sleeve down- exposing a thin, X-shaped scar on the back of his right shoulder.

The teen snarled, pulling back sharply.

Fox decided to ignore the increasing amount of evidence from previous injuries- it had been a little over a month ago! And if _that much_ had happened in _one month_... what about before the skin graft? It had been two years... _two years_, since basic training. He closed his eyes momentarily, to calm the rage that boiled in his veins. "What is it, Cub? And who gave it to you?"

Cub tensed. "It doesn't matter."

"The hell it does," Wolf growled.

Snake and Eagle looked expectantly at him.

_"They'll be here soon."_

Fox thought back a few moments back- he had sounded so _sure_ of himself. And then, the first question that he had asked after waking up.

_"How long was I asleep?" _A look of surprise at the answer. _"Why'd you let me sleep that long?"_

He didn't ask why K-Unit was there there, nor had he been concerned with their presence _at all_\- or that he had been barely functioning when he had come to his house.

"How do they know you'd be here?" Fox demanded. "Why are you so sure?"

The teen's face closed off.

It dawned on him.

Fox swallowed; it was sick, it was inhumane, and there was _no way_-

"Are they tracking you?"

Cub closed his eyes, defeated.

It was all the answer he needed.

"Fox, tell us," Eagle said urgently. "What are you talking about?"

The soldier-turned-spy ignored him, intention focused on their unofficial member. "When did they insert the chip?"

Cub's eyes were foggy, haunted. "A month ago- when they caught me."

K-Unit's expressions turned to horror and disgust.

He had run- _hell_, he had _run away_ from MI6... and they had given him that chip. They had put a _microchip_ under the skin of a _teenager_, undoubtedly against his will.

Those were used for _dogs_, not _boys_... not _Cub._ And-

Cub froze at the harsh knock of a door.

There was a moment of silence, before-

"MI6," he whispered. "They're here."

O-o-O-o-O

Sometimes the risk is worth taking. You must choose wisely when making reckless decision.

O-o-O-o-O

**So... yeah. What are your theories on what will happen next? **


	12. Secrets (Not!) Revealed

**Ok, I know this took longer than usual. I've been getting the plot straightened out (aka, planned), if you want an excuse (_reason_, I protest). I don't feel like I deserve these reviews- but I love them all the same. And like, 59 reviews. _59 freakin' reviews._ Thank you!  
****Individual review replies are on my profile.**

**Warning: This doesn't have much Alex in it- it's more of a developer for K-Unit. Sorry in advance! The writing might also seem a bit repetitive- I decided it would be a more realistic approach of K-Unit's reactions to- well, you'll see, I guess.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider.**

O-o-O-o-O

Numbly, Fox watched as Cub went over to the door.

He supposed he should stop him- after all it was his house. But still... he was trying to process all the _(new)_ information they had just received.

Cub wasn't a rich son of a politician.

Cub was still with MI6 (the thought both irked and terrified him- he knew what they were capable of).

Cub wasn't _healthy_\- from the obvious deprivation of sleep, to the starvation. He wasn't mentally healthy, either- that much was clear. Whatever he had seen and done had left deep mental scars that would _forever_ be burned in his memory- and it wasn't past tense... MI6 were _still_ hurting him.

And... Cub... _MI6_ had put a microchip, a _tracker_ in the shoulder of a _kid_.

MI6 were treating Cub like an... _animal_. It was psychological trauma and abuse must have been causing _horrific_ damage... Alone, the tracker would have _forced_ him to become more obedient and submissive. But the tracker had been inserted a month ago- their first meeting with Cub had been _two years ago_.

Fox- and the rest of K-Unit- jerked out of their thoughts.

"Cub,"

The boy glanced back at them, unblinking.

He was... _calm _(the exact opposite of what the soldiers were feeling). He had _accepted_ it, the fact that-

The door opened.

Suddenly, the room filled with MI6 agents.

K-Unit was up and out of their seats, doing their best to calm the same rage that they all shared- equal amounts of both frustration and exasperation, but not only that- the ugly truth, and the horror.

"Wait!" Fox shouted amiss the chaos. "You can't take him- he's hurt, and he needs rest and food."

"The heads want to see him," the lead agent snapped. "You'll do well to stay out of our way."

Wolf, their own leader, stood his ground. "Cub can't go back to MI6- not in his state."

K-Unit growled in agreement.

The agent rolled his eyes. "If you have a problem, go higher up in the foodchain." His gaze snapped back to the boy. "Our orders were to retrieve a rogue."

Time stilled.

A rogue.

_A rogue._

A rogue... _agent?_

Cub wasn't- Cub was an _agent?_

But-but... Cub?

The tired gaze, the_ weariness_, the eyes that had _seen too much._

And- _hell,_ Cub.

MI6 had broken him, _shattered_ him.

MI6 had-

_MI6 had-_

A rogue.

A runaway.

An agent.

MI6 was _using_ him.

MI6 was _still_ breaking him, chipping him, piece by piece.

They were-

_He was-_

Cub was an agent.

MI6 was calling him a _rogue agent_... of _course_ he wasn't a rogue. _(He shouldn't have been an_ _**agent** one in the **first** **place.**)_

But still, he had run away from them- multiple times, it seemed.

Then-then they had put a_ chip_ in his shoulder.

A microchip.

A tracker.

A- _collar._

Fox glanced at the rest of K-Unit, their shocked expressions mirroring his own.

"Cub isn't some _rogue_," Wolf snapped angrily, shouldering his way through. "He came to us for _help_."

The agents eyed him warily- neither side had resorted to force- yet. Still, hands hovered near their tasers and tranquilizer guns.

"When _you_ obviously didn't help," Eagle cut in, loyal and protective of their unofficial member.

Snake glared coldly at them. "Not only _that_," he spat out, "but he needs to_ rest_ and _recover_."

The agents expertly ignored the pointed remarks that Cub _hadn't been healthy-_ with MI6.

He hadn't slept enough.

He hadn't_ eaten_ enough.

_(It was like- Cub acted like he wasn't __**allowed** to sleep enough, or eat his fill, but that was utterly ridiculous... wasn't it?)_

Fox was about to add another biting remark on Cub's condition, when a quiet voice stopped him.

"No, it's fine." The boy's eyes glossed over. "I'll go."

Wolf was ready to protest again, and go all-out, but he calmed himself. Force wouldn't work- he knew- not in the long run.

Not with Cub.

Grimly, Fox studied their unofficial member.

Shoulders hunched over, Cub had already accepted defeat.

He looked... obedient.

Obedient and submissive.

The words tasted sour- that wasn't Cub.

Not Alex.

So why did he-

Fox swallowed, glancing back at the teen.

Cub grimaced as more hands pulled his arms behind him, the familiar bite of steel locking into place.

"What do you think you're _doing?!_ That's an _injured child_, he doesn't need _handcuffs!_" Snake ranted, _frustrated,_ to say the least.

Fox froze.

Why did Cub look so... _casual?_

He acted like it-

Like it-

No.

_No._

Grief washed over him.

And the fact that- that he was so _casual_ about it... and-and it _must_ have happened to him before.

It made his blood boil.

MI6 _treated_ him like this- for _god knows_ how long. They treated a _teenage boy_ **_(Cub)_** like some sort of _machine,_ or he would even go as far as to say, like, he shuddered... an _animal_.

They handled their 'agent' (there was _no way_ it was legal- it wasn't healthy, and he doubted Cub did it willingly. But... MI6 wouldn't force a _child_ into that sort of work... would they?) poorly, to say the least. The kid was clearly _(understatement- **beyond exhausted**),_ and hungry- and how on _earth_ had his stomach shrunk? And Snake was right- rogue agent or not, handcuffs weren't necessary on a child- especially with an entire team of MI6 agents watching _(arresting)_ him.

But, the worst thing was, Cub was _used_ to it. It happened often enough that Cub could act _casual_ about.

It made him sick. How many times had Cub needed him? Needed _them?_

How many times had Cub 'adapted' to a situation, not being able to rely on _anyone?_

How many times had Fox _should_ have been there for him? It made him angry with himself. They were a _damn team!_ Cub was a member of K-Unit- they should have known, _god_, they _should have known_. They should have seen the signs when they had had five days with him! He was a trained spy, and they were all soldiers! Not only did it make him guilty, it made him determined to _stop_ the people that had hurt him- and were _continuing_ to hurt him. _Hell,_ when he had _found _the people that had hurt him, they would wish-

Wolf regarded the agents warily- they wouldn't give up Cub without a fight. "Fine- but we're coming with you."

"We need to get this whole mess cleaned up," Snake said coldly, shooting another icy glare at the MI6 agents.

Cub looked doubtful.

That wasn't all- Fox saw Cub's eyes lingering around the house, and with another heartbreaking tug, at _them_, K-Unit. Yes, he went without a fight (which would have long ago been beaten into submission, he thought bitterly), but he was also reluctant. Cub now associated _comfort_ with them, _safety_\- something he obviously hadn't experienced in a while.

It was rather depressing on their part- the first time they had met, K-Unit had had their own problems, worrying and stressing over basic training. The next two occasions had both been missions- ones that Wolf and Fox hadn't known Cub was actually _participating_ in. And their most recent meeting, Cub had been too busy planning and executing his disappearing act to let in a family, and relationship (and most of the knowledge) had been faked.

But Cub had come to _them_.

_"I don't really have anywhere else to go."_

He hadn't been exaggerating, then, if Cub had first turned to people had met only a few occasions in the past (almost complete strangers, Fox thought grimly).

Eagle sent the kid a reassuring smile. "It'll work out, yeah?"

Fox frowned as the boy turned away from them, ignoring K-Unit as the horde of agents led him to the van.

He didn't want any false hope, Fox thought grimly. Too many people had let him down in the past.

They all refused to take a separate car- K-Unit didn't want to risk it, wanting to keep Cub in their sight at all times.

The agent situated the teenager in the back of the truck, avoiding him like the plague.

Fox didn't miss how Cub's eyes darted to the van doors- the escape route, he guessed.

"Forget it, kid," another agent chuckled humorlessly, locking the cuffs to a metal loop attacked to the side of the car. "You're not going anywhere."

"Stop it," Fox snapped, unable to stand the abuse any longer. "He's just a kid."

The agent shrugged, moving back to talk quietly to his friends.

"You Ok, Cub?" Snake frowned, concerned.

"I'm fine," Cub muttered, but winced as the van hit an unexpected bump, jarring his shoulder (which looked like it had been recently dislocated, Snake noted suspicious. Not a good thing while he had his arms cuffed behind him). "I've had worse."

Wolf shook his head. "That's the problem."

O-o-O-o-O

It didn't take long to reach the bank.

The agents went tot he back entrance, where K-Unit barely managed to get a word in before the agents whisked the teenager away.

"Where are you taking him?" Eagle asked urgently.

The lead agent rolled his eyes. "Stay here until the heads can see you." He snapped his fingers.

Immediately, another agent was by his side, looking strangely eager and nervous.

She was new, Fox realized. A probation agent, no doubt.

"Yes, sir?"

"Stay here with them," he ordered brusquely, before following the rest of his agents down the hall.

Wolf calmed (only a bit) as Fox put a hand on his shoulder, reminding him. He got the message- they were in the enemy's lair; they needed to be careful- especially if they wanted to protect Cub.

The young agent looked slightly uncomfortable, shifting one foot to the other. Normally, any member of K-Unit would have gotten into a casual conversation, or even mild flirting.

But not now- not since they had faced the reality of how MI6 was treating Cub- they were worried for him. They definitely didn't trust the agents alone with Cub- K-Unit had _seen_ the disgust, and almost... _contempt_ they had for him. Plus, they could see that Cub had met the lead agent before- and it hadn't been on good terms.

One hour later, K-Unit had become significantly more worried, cranky, and impatient.

When was-?

Fox blinked at the sudden scent of peppermint.

"Mrs. Jones," he greeted with forced politeness.

Although she noticed the tense atmosphere, she didn't show it. "Come with me. Now."

Exchanging worried and confused glances, K-Unit followed her down the twisted maze of hallways and corridors.

They were in the basement, Fox realized. He had only been down there a few times.

"Are you taking us to Cub?" Wolf asked (they hoped so. Who knew what had happened to him in an hour? Especially _here_).

"No questions- not here."

K-Unit reluctantly agreed.

She came to a stop in front of a door (that had a suspiciously large lock); they looked curiously at it.

Cautiously, Mrs. Jones opened it.

It was an empty(ish) room.

Fox frowned. "What is this place?"

She smiled sadly. "This is Cub's room."

Eagle snorted humorously. "Could've fooled me."

"No wonder he doesn't like hospitals," Wolf muttered bitterly.

Looking around the room, Snake saw that he was right.

It was lightly carpeted with a simple cot in one corner; nearby was a cabinet that had obviously been hastily opened, revealing bandages and other medical supplies, and a bathroom could easily be seen as well.

But it was so... empty.

Bland.

It didn't look anything like what a teenager's room _should_ have looked like.

There weren't any movies or video games- nor were there any Xboxes or TVs to play on them, or a laptop- and no electronics _at all_.

Where were the piles of homework that needed to be done? Or the posters plastered of favorite sports teams and artists?

"This doesn't even _qualify_ as a bedroom," Wolf snarled in disgust. "Let alone a _teenager's_."

"This is barely a _closet,_" Snake seethed, eyes angry. "How can you expect a _teenager to live here?_"

Eagle curled his lips in distaste. "This is ridiculous- he's not even _here_. Where did you put him?"

Mrs. Jones thought for a moment- she portrayed the expressions of one that was mildly surprised that Cub wasn't there, and was thinking of where he _would_ be.

Fox took in the unused bedroom- because it clearly _hadn't_ been used recently, in over a month if he could see the dust correctly (he could). The spy narrowed his eyes. "No one has used this room in over a month- where has Cub been?" _What has he been doing? What have you _**_forced_**_ him to do?_

The woman held her composition, _not_ paling, and _not_ swaying on her feet at the horrid thought.

The soldiers silently filed out, Mrs. Jones leading the way once more.

She seemed more humane than Blunt- enough to that she seemed to be actually _trying_ to help them (if could all be a front, Fox reminded himself. You must assume everything _is_ fake). And K-Unit were too worried- keeping their anger in check would help them find Cub.

Fox swallowed when he realized where they were.

He hoped he was wrong. For _Cub's_ sake, he hoped he was wrong.

The spy forced himself to remain calm, but still was unable to quench the growing rage he felt toward his employers. "You would put a _child_, here?" Ben hissed. "A _child_. A _kid_... in a _holding cell?!_"

Fists clenched; the anger rose another notch as K-Unit realized the significance of the sentence.

Snake closed his eyes. It was completely unnecessary- they had _seen_ Cub's door, and how it locked from the outside, how it was windowless. No, it wasn't decent for a teenager to _live_ there, but it was certainly better than a _holding cell_, it was definitely more humane- except K-Unit didn't know how much longer this abuse would _go_. As time went on, more and more ugly secrets about Cub were being revealed. Which begged the question... did they _want_ to know more?

Yes, Snake thought immediately. The first step was knowing what to protect him from- and the things that had been used against him in the past. That way they could change their strategy, if need be... and actually _protect_ him.

"I don't know," Mrs. Jones admitted. "Alan _has_ used them in the past."

Jaws clenched. They shouldn't have been surprised- they _shouldn't_ have. But the thought that-that Cub _had_ been treated this way before, the actual _verbal confirmation..._

She intently studied the readouts on a small electronic feature on her phone.

"He's not here."

K-Unit didn't sigh in relief.

"Where is he?" Wolf growled.

Mrs. Jones sobered. "There's only one more place I can think of." She didn't offer any more explanation before they began to head in a different direction.

The spy's mouth went dry. That wasn't good. If Cub's 'room' (he _refused_ to consider the pathetic excuse for a closet was a teen's _bedroom_) had been the first choice, and the holding cell had been the second... the third was going to be even worse.

They continued walking- _urgently_\- for several minutes, before Mrs. Jones halted.

K-Unit looked uneasily at the room titles.

"_Interrogation rooms?_" Snake choked out.

"The _hell_ you're interrogating Cub," Wolf thundered angrily, ready to tear the place apart- but he didn't. For Cub.

Eagle's face twisted to one of hatred. "You're interrogating _Cub_."

Not a question- a statement, one of confirmation.

Mrs. Jones didn't answer, peering at an electronic readout on her cellphone.

"Which room?" Fox hoarsely asked. "_Which room?_" He repeated, urgently.

"Come on," she lead through a door.

It was empty, a black screen blocking their view- concealing their view of Cub.

"We need to see _Cub_," Wolf look frustrated- they were on the wrong side. They needed to be _with_ him, not watching him.

Mrs. Jones shook her head. "No, not yet. I have some explaining to do, first."

They needed to see Cub.

They needed to see what state he was in- mentally and physically.

They needed to see what MI6 had done to him.

But first... they needed to know the full story.

The entire truth.

They needed to hear the ugly truth- when it had all started.

They needed to know what _exactly _had happened that day... the day MI6 decided to train a dog.

O-o-O-o-O

Secrets are powerful- but even more powerful are the people that hold them. They will hold them over you; they will use them against you. Brace yourself, for they will also reveal them.

O-o-O-o-O

**Any conspiracy theories I should know about?**


	13. Past (Regrets) Mistakes

**Lovin' the reviews! I was going to add more to this chapter... but then it would've taken another week (and I don't want to do that to you guys). By the way, the bold later in this chapter is supposed to represent another language. Profile has individual review replies.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider.**

O-o-O-o-O

"First, you need to understand: Alex has grown up in a family of spies... it's all he's ever known."

_("Mr. Blunt will see you, now."_

_John nudged his brother. "Any ideas what this is about?"_

_"No clue."_

_. . . _

_"You are SAS, correct?"  
_

_"Yes, sir."_

_"Very good... You're being reassigned to SO. Is this understood?"_

_Hesitation, then, "Yes, sir."_

_"Ian, I am now promoting you to a full-time field agent. Understood?"_

_"Yes, sir.")_

"His parents were killed when he was a baby- he was left to his uncle, also a spy. He never really _did_ have a normal life..."

_("Stop whining, Alex."_

_"But it _hurts_," the four-year-old complained [he should have known better]. "'sides, none of the _other_ kids had their training wheels taken off."_

_"You're a big boy- and you need to learn to ride a bike like one. Understood?"_

_A pause. "Yes, Ian."_

_"Good- I have some work to do; don't disturb me.")_

_("Ian, I can't-"_

**_"I already told you, Alex," _**_Ian interrupted._**_ "We're only speaking Spanish for the next two weeks."_**

_The six-year-old struggled to find the right words. **"Me- **_**I,_ don't know, _understood,"** _he clumsily built the sentence, hoping his uncle understood, and would relent- or at least help him._

_**"I don't care. Disobey, and I'll add a few more weeks."**)_

_(" But I don't want to stay out here alone!" He protested._

_"Be quiet, Alex," Ian snapped. "It's just a weekend camping trip. Besides, you're nine years old- you can take care of yourself, right?"_

_A slight nod._

_"Good. Now, I'll meet up with you in three days. Remember- you're just tracking me. I've left you with water purification tablets and a sufficient amount of supplies you will be able to use to make traps for food, along with the necessary camping equipment. Leave the blindfold on for one hour, then try and find me.")_

Fox clenched his jaw. He guessed that Alex hadn't exactly had an ideal childhood (that was an understatement)... but this 'Ian' character sounded downright brutal.

Wolf wore a similar expression, except he was a bit guilty as well. He had already apologized and made amends about his attitude during basic training, but still... all of them had completely misunderstood the situation.

"He shouldn't have had to _grow up_ that fast- it's not _right_," Eagle said bitterly.

"Why didn't he ever tell us?" Snake asked quietly, cooling down the amount of anger he had for Alex's uncle.

"He wasn't allowed to say anything- Alan made sure of that," Mrs. Jones answered. "Of course, MI6 didn't approach him until he was fourteen."

_Until_ he was fourteen? K-Unit shared their mutual horror. Yes, they had had an idea during basic, but still... Cub shouldn't have been... _exposed_ to something like that until he was an adult! He was a _child_ living in an _adults'_ world- he only _acted_ like an adult because of the situations he had been _forced_ in... not to mention the people that had _put _him in those situations in the _first place_.

"Alan had been planning it for years- he manipulated Ian into thinking it was the right decision, to treat him like that way," she continued. "He told Ian that if his enemies ever came after him, Alex would need to prepared- hence the training. Ian really _did_ love Alex... he just showed it differently. He was worried that if he didn't properly make sure Alex could defend himself, it would be his fault if he ever got hurt. Still, that plan backfired when Ian died. All along, Alan had been training him- until the opportune moment."

_("Don't you see, Alex? Ian was training you for this- he _wanted_ this. You want to him to be proud of you, don't you? You need to live up to his expectations..."_

_Alex inwardly struggled with the dilemma. He didn't _want_ to be a spy- Ian _couldn't_ have meant for him to become one... right? But still... he _yearned_ for that praise. Ian had praised him sparingly- he could almost _always_ do better, try harder... Was Ian's dying wish _really_ for him to become a spy? That was ridiculous, but still...")_

Wolf's eyes blazed with anger. "_Blunt_ did this? He told him Ian wouldn't be _proud of him_ because of his _stupid expectations?_"

"It wasn't enough... was it," Fox guessed grimly; it was more of a statement of confirmation, not a question.

"What do you mean?" Eagle asked worriedly.

Mrs. Jones shook her head, moving to further explain. "No, it wasn't."

_(No, I'm find, thanks," Alex said finally. "I don't want to be a spy."_

_He thought that it would be fine- after all, the man in front of him fought for justice and equality, fighting for the good of England. Despite the unsettling personality, he was sure it wasn't _that_ bad and-_

_"That's really too bad..." Blunt carried on. "I hate inform you, but we're your legal guardians. You see... you really have no choice in the matter. We could _easily_, say, send you to an orphanage and perhaps deport your housekeeper... you wouldn't want _that_, now would you?")_

K-Unit erupted in curses.

Wolf was downright _furious_. "He did _what?_"

"He's just a _kid_," Snake seethed. "How can MI6 _do_ this to people?"

"How can you _live_ with yourself?"

"We need to see him," Fox urged. Cub was sixteen- it had been _two years_ since he had first been blackmailed. But... those agents had been given an hour with him- and Blunt must have been angry with him; Cub had deliberately disobeyed him... they needed to know what had _happened_ to him.

Mrs. Jones turned those intent eyes at him. "Not yet- you need to know everything."

Fox sighed, running a hand through his hair. He needed to be patient- but _still_.

She hesitated. "It didn't take long after that... he came home more and more broken. After his guardian died... well, that was the last straw."

_(Screams._

_Fire._

_Restraints holding him down, crying and _**_watching_**_._

_The bomb- the **bomb**_**.**

_And Jack was gone- a burnt-out skeleton._

_Dead... like the others before her.)_

"He went to America- Blunt staged a retirement," she continued. "He wanted Alex to think he was done, before pulling him back in. He knew it would only be a matter of time before his adoptive family was killed. So he waited... biding his time."

_("I think you will find that we never _forced_ you to complete those missions. In fact, it was of your own free will that you accepted. Although we often offer great benefits when you do them." Blunt leaned comfortably back in his chair. "It _is_ rather unfortunate you did not save them, especially if you had simply made the _right _decisions. Making the simple choices such as staying in England, telling them the information that they wanted, obeying _me _instead of acting foolish." The gray eyes hardened. "It was_ your_ fault that the Pleasures are dead. The blame is _completely _on your shoulders. Do you understand, Alex?")_

"You mean he blamed _their deaths_ on Cub?!" Wolf roared.

"That's sick," Eagle spat out. "And he did _missions_ because of this?!"

Mrs. Jones gave him a melancholy look. "Blunt didn't give him a choice... and MI6 is still his legal guardian."

_("You're our property. We _own_ you- and you _will _obey."_

_"You don't own me," Alex said dully. "No one does."_

_"Be quiet, Alex."_

_The teenager closed his eyes, worn._

_"Now, about your next assignment...")_

K-Unit didn't bother to hid their shock.

"How long?" Snake asked, voice hoarse.

Mrs. Jones stared at him. "It's been almost eight months since the Pleasures died- but MI6 have been using him for over two years."

Fox swallowed, mouth dry. _Two years- eight months of being treated like a _dog_._

"I'm going to kill him," Wolf growled.

"Get in line," Eagle muttered.

Snake looked suspiciously at her. "When did his uncle die?"

Mrs. Jones sobered. "Two years," she said quietly.

It took a moment to click into place.

Fox clenched his fists. "When was he sent to basic?"

She hesitated. "Two days after Ian died."

"You sent him to a _boot camp_ after his _only living relative died_?!" Wolf raged.

Mrs. Jones nodded. "And a mission after that."

More curses.

She remained quiet- deep in thought.

Then, surprisingly, she asked them a question.

"Do you know what happened to him after he ran away?"

K-Unit sobered.

Wait.

She didn't _know?_

_How_ could she not _know?_

"I was out of the country at the time," Mrs. Jones explained.

Eagle sent her a poisonous glare. "Would you have stopped it if you could?"

The woman visibly paled. "Tell me _what happened?_"

Shooting Eagle a sharp look, Wolf curtly answered. "Blunt put a... _tracker_ in him."

Mrs. Jones closed her eyes, leaning against the wall. "I should have known something like this would happen to him," she murmured.

Snake studied her with narrowed eyes. She _seemed_ sincere enough- but that was her _job_. Who knew what was real or fake?

Fox's head snapped up. "You've told us enough- we need to see him now."

Mrs. Jones finally nodded. "Alright." She swallowed, then turned to the control panel.

She flipped a switch.

The two-way mirror flickered on.

Then they saw him.

Fox swore angrily, already heading to the door- along with Snake, who was desperate to _get over there and help Cub_.

A hand stopped him.

"Wait."

Surprisingly, it was Wolf. His attention was on the other room-

Fox turned and could only watch at the screen in horror as the doorknob turned.

The door opened, revealing a familiar gray man.

"Ah, Alex. We have much to talk about."

O-o-O-o-O

The amount of people knowing that you are a spy will either make things easier or harder for you- time will only tell...

O-o-O-o-O

**Another non-Alex-chapter, but at least it had K-Unit in it. So what do _you_ think happened to Alex?**

**Sidenote: Americans, who do you want to win the Superbowl? Who do you think _will_ win the Superbowl?**


	14. Break or Bend

**Eh- three weeks? Yeah... all-time low. My bad. **

**3326freespirit and Justrockzyxxx both guessed correctly (on two different things, but both were right)! And thank you to Ceriarcher and Guest (Chapter 13, Feb 19) for kicking be back into action! Lastly, individual review replies are located on my profile.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider.**

O-o-O-o-O

Eagle wasn't fully comprehending what he was seeing.

The information passed to his brain... but he wasn't processing it.

Fox was calm (as calm as he _could_ be), Snake was worried, and Wolf was definitely still angry.

But Eagle... he was just staring in shock.

Before Mrs. Jones had turned the two-way mirror on, he wasn't sure what he would see.

Cub, hurt- probably- but to what extent? Yes, the MI6 agents- the ones who had escorted Cub- certainly knew interrogation techniques... but they wouldn't use them on Cub- he was just a kid. Interrogations were for extracting information- and they wouldn't have to brutally interrogate him, just to get information.

No, Cub had been forced to _act_ like an adult... but he was still a teenager.

Which was why...

Which was why-

Cub was- _how to describe it?_

Eagle's mouth tightened.

Cub was chained down- the cuffs were still on him, and the soldier was willing to bet that they hadn't been taken off.

But... it was a _locked room_.

They weren't _necessary_. Plus, Cub had clearly been submissive- he didn't _need_ them, in order for the agents to control him.

And-and he was on the _floor_.

It wasn't that bad- not _really_, but... it was like the agents were _lowering_ his status- what he deserved to be, how he deserved to be treated.

They must've been attached somehow- but still, it was more of a... _leash_ then anything.

And there were chairs.

The agents had _chosen_ to treat him less than a human being- and had pointedly _showed him_.

Eagle wondered to what extent the dehumanizing was doing to him- and how long it had been going on.

It couldn't be healthy- hell, it _wasn't_ healthy.

Eagle knew both Snake and Fox had quickly assessed what condition Cub was in- and Cub needed that. He _needed_ people that could stay strong for him, fight for him, protect him.

And he wasn't having trouble seeing what had happened to him.

Cub was curled up on the floor, semiconscious. Breathing looked painful for him- more than likely, he had broken a few ribs. Besides for the fresh cuts and bruises, the gash on his arm had reopened- it was bleeding sluggishly. The boy's normally blond hair was caked with blood, and- judging by the size and shape- it looked like a gun had been cracked over his head.

The horrifying thing was what _position_ he had been during the beating- he had been completely vulnerable and unable to protect himself.

Helpless.

The agents had been excessively brutal- it was punishment, it seemed... issued by Blunt? It made _sense_... and Eagle knew it had happened before.

There wasn't much relief that he hadn't been tortured- it was still awful the things that they were doing to him.

But then- before K-Unit had even _gotten out of the door_, to _help_ and _protect_ him- that... _pathetic excuse_ for a man walked in.

Their superior.

Their employer.

Alan Blunt, Head of MI6.

"Ah, Alex. We have much to talk about."

O-o-O-o-O

Alex's eyes snapped onto the man as he entered, wary.

He didn't like him.

He didn't _trust_ him.

Alan Blunt sat down in a chair- one of which he hadn't been allowed in, the spy mused.

He was studying the boy closely, eyes never leaving him.

The teen averted his gaze.

He knew _exactly_ what Blunt was insinuating.

It may have not been much to most people- but the way Blunt sat, legs crossed, the soles of his shoes facing not the floor, but upward, towards him.

In the Middle East, in countries like Iraq and Afghanistan, it was an insult- that you were saying that the person was lower than the floor.

To Blunt, he wasn't even human.

He was a tool.

He was a weapon.

He was neither child nor adult.

He was... a dog.

The boy shrunk back.

"I told you that I would mark you as a rogue if you disobeyed me again."

Alex felt a burst of anger. Stubbornly, he lifted his head, challenging the hard grey eyes. "There were already two agents assigned to that mission- and they had everything under control."

"You are mistaken," Alan Blunt corrected sharply, as one would scold a child. "There was no one else assigned. You quit, and because of that, people died- people you could have saved."

The spy froze.

No, _don't listen to him_.

He was manipulating him- he _was._

He was sure of it.

Amusement showed through the grey eyes. "It's not the first time you've killed people- let people die... is it, Alex?"

_Jack_.

No- hell, _no_, **_Jack_.**

_("Why, Alex? Why did you kill me?")_

It was his fault.

_(The turn of a key, the explosives igniting... a burst of flame.)_

He had killed her.

_(Screams)_

He shouldn't have-

_He shouldn't have-_

The teen closed his eyes, head lowered- submissive once more.

"Very good," Blunt murmured; he was intentionally quiet, but clearly audible.

The boy didn't say anything.

Blunt had already won.

O-o-O-o-O

Wolf swallowed.

His throat still felt dry.

Frustration, anger.

Frustration- because he _couldn't do anything._

He couldn't help Cub.

He couldn't protect him.

Because, at the moment, the best thing for Cub was to _sit behind a sheet of glass and do **nothing**_**.**

Anger, pure _rage_, because of what the Director of MI6 was _doing to him_.

First, the coward had hid behind a team of MI6 agents, while they _beat him up_ (a kid. A teenager. A boy).

Next, when Cub was _at his weakest_, Blunt claimed his... _dominance_ over him. (That was the horrifying thought... that this had had happened to him _before_. Many times. Two years. _Two years_.)

He could see why Cub didn't want to fight back- or couldn't bring himself to even _try_.

He knew what that feeling of power was... and then how weak you felt without it, that power being taken away- and that Blunt had taken away every right Cub should have been given to him as _human being_, by choosing to _ignore_ the fact that, yes, he was human.

But Cub _hadn't fought back_.

In fact, the only time Wolf had even _sensed_ that strong person he really was (he was. It was just buried- buried under the many layers of emotional armor he had been forced to put up against the psychological abuse Blunt was putting him through)... was after that burst of anger- but it had been brief.

Too brief.

And he had backed down immediately after (like a dog)... after Blunt had begun those manipulative games again (blaming those deaths on _him_. No way. There was _no way_ someone could _stoop that low_).

It was the psychology of it.

With the information from Jones, Cub's first year of being a spy had been only the first step. Blunt hadn't gone full force on him- but he had been setting the stage for later.

After that last mission... and Jack dying, Blunt had _pretended. _He had _pretended_ Cub was done... before dragging him back in.

_Then_ he had gone all-out, breaking down Cub both physically and mentally, putting any blame of people dying on his young shoulders.

But when had it changed to master and dog? When had Cub begun to _accept_ that as regular behavior?

That was the sick truth behind Blunt's true motives- Cub always being submissive, always being obedient.

_We'll bring you back, Cub_.

Wolf glanced at the grim expressions of him teammates.

They would get him out of the prison Blunt had forced him in.

They would bring him back to the boy he once was... before Blunt killed him.

They would bring him back- they _would_.

Could they?

Yes, they could.

Yes, they would.

We'll bring you back.

O-o-O-o-O

Alan Blunt methodically drummed his knuckles on the edge. "K-Unit has become a problem, Alex."

The teenager stiffened.

"And you know that problems need to be fixed," the chilling voice said.

"I'll tell K-Unit to back off," the boy promised. "They'll listen to me."

The lips twitched. "You can't guarantee that, Alex."

The spy involuntarily flinched.

"In fact, I doubt they would even listen to you. After all, you don't deserve to have people even _listen_ to you."

The boy didn't react- only accepted the abuse.

He didn't deserve to be listened to.

No, he didn't.

He wasn't _like_ the other people- the ones that were given attention.

He was _different_.

He wasn't _normal_.

He was... lower than them.

No, he definitely didn't deserve it.

Besides, K-Unit probably wouldn't listen to him... would they?

That didn't sound like them..

They _cared_ about him.

They wanted to _protect_ him.

The boy smiled faintly.

He always felt comfort with them.

Even if it was brief... like that morning.

They'd given him food.

They'd let him _rest_.

And something told him, if those MI6 agents hadn't come, they would've _kept_ on caring for him- they would've _kept on_ protecting him.

But then where were they now?

Where was K-Unit now?

And there was no reason for him to trust them- they had left him. They had left him to get roughed up by those agents.

Alex forced himself to concentrate- Blunt was talking to him again.

"No... they won't listen to you." Eyes intently watched the spy. "But I am their employer... they'll listen to me."

The teen shook his head. "I'll obey, I promise. Just- leave them alone."

"You know I can't do that, Alex," the amused voice continued. "I know what is best for you- and they must be taken care of." His eyes went to the two-way mirror, one that was reflecting his image back at him. "In fact... K-Unit- why don't you join us?"

O-o-O-o-O

To survive, you must accept all forms of pain and abuse- it will make you stronger, but you will bend under another's power; or you may break.

O-o-O-o-O

**Please feel free to tell me what you think!**


	15. Game Controller

**Whoa, thanks for all the support! Really, you guys are amazing.**

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**Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider.**

O-o-O-o-O

Time stopped.

"He knew we were here?" Snake hissed.

"Looks like it."

"Oh, great. We're screwed."

Wolf shot the owner of that _so helpful_ comment a dark look, and Eagle shut up.

A rather pale Mrs. Jones spoke once more. "I should go- we'll be in touch."

She abruptly left the room.

"What do we do?" Eagle wondered aloud, looking to Wolf and Fox for guidance.

Wolf- because he was their leader.

Fox- because he was a sneaky spy and knew about this kind of stuff.

"The only thing we _can_ do." Fox turned to briefly look at that broken boy, and the grey man who had made him that way. "We confront him."

O-o-O-o-O

Alex couldn't believe what he was hearing.

K-Unit was here- not just _in the building_, but behind the glass, _watching_ him.

Which meant they had been here all along.

They hadn't _done anything_.

They hadn't _intervened_.

Even when they could see _he was being hurt_.

Which meant... they didn't care about him.

No! That wasn't true- it _couldn't_ be.

They cared about him... they _did_.

They _had_ to! Because- because-

Th door burst open; three soldiers and one spy crowded in the room, shooting Blunt venomous looks before they rushed toward him.

"Cub, hold tight, we'll patch you up in just a-"

"Stop."

The order made them all freeze- they _were_ soldiers, after all, they were _used_ to obeying commands in that same dominating, powerful tone.

Snake clenched his jaw. "Cub's _hurt_." _Because of you._ "He needs _medical attention."_

_"My agent_ will receive medical attention _later_." Blunt's tone offered no room for argument.

But they did, anyway.

"He's _not_ your agent," Eagle snarled, furious. "He shouldn't have been dragged into this in the _first_ place."

"And he _does_ need medical attention," Fox defended- logical as always.. There was no _reason_ to wait; unless, of course-

Alan Blunt's features hardened. "I hired you for this private job, almost two months ago, until your next tour. You obey _my_ orders- and _only_ mine- until further notice. Is this understood?"

He was right- and they all knew it.

_Besides_ the fact that Fox was a spy, and under Blunt at all times.

"Yes, sir," the forced replies came reluctantly (_that_ was an understatement, considering they would be happy to oblige an order to kill the man that sat before them).

"Good." Blunt gestured to the other chairs around the table- which had been pushed to the edge of the room, to make room for- to make room for...

Fox swallowed.

One table- albeit a bit larger than the usual tables that were in interrogation rooms.

Six chairs.

Six people.

But-but- Cub was on the _floor,_ arms wrenched behind his back, handcuffs bolted to the hard cement- allowing roughly six inches of leash- not nearly enough to properly move around (which was why Cub had been so _vulnerable_ while he had been 'interrogated').

There were usually only two chairs in interrogation rooms- three, max. So why six?

Unless...

Blunt _had_ prepared for this beforehand (it was pointing toward that conclusion, anyway)... but if Blunt had already _known_ they'd been coming, _known_ that he'd already have four guests needing chairs, and one 'regular customer' that he would have already had a 'special' spot for... why the extra chair?

Realization dawned on him.

Oh.

_Oh_.

Ben felt sick.

Yes, Blunt had only planned for five people to be using the chairs (including one for himself, the bastard)- but he'd want to show Alex.

Show Cub that he'd had the _decision,_ the _choice,_ the _opportunity_ that Cub _could have_ sat with them, like normal, regular human beings... and make sure Cub knew that he'd _chosen_ to chain him up like a dog.

Chosen, and-

Fox closed his eyes momentarily.

This dehumanization needed to _stop_.

"Why doesn't Cub come and join up as well?" Ben suggested casually, making sure it was neither order nor something that could be putt of easily.

The rest of K-Unit rumbled in agreement.

"Alex's rightful place is on the floor," Blunt said simply.

Wait, what?!

Before that statement had even _registered-_

"At my feet," Blunt added. "Wouldn't you agree, Alex?"

Cub, who had retained a kneeling position, looked down quickly as he was addressed. "Of course, sir."

"That's ridiculous!" Wolf snarled. "Cub isn't some _dog_, he's a _teenage boy,_ who deserves just as man rights as any of us!"

"On the contrary," the Director of MI6 began. "Alex is my property... and I can do whatever I see fit to anything I own."

O-o-O-o-O

Alex is-

_Cub is-_

...property?

_Blunt's_ property?

Had he just _openly_ said that?"

In _front_ of them?

In front of _Cub?!_

K-Unit was too stunned to react- at first.

Fox glanced at Cub.

Head bent low, Cub was making himself as small as possible, but otherwise accepting.

_Accepting_ it.

Accepting the _abuse_.

Like it-it was _normal,_ casual.

His mind was a mass of anger and- _He hadn't. He **hadn't **just compared Cub** (their Cub)** to a piece of... **property**. _

No, it wasn't just physical abuse- it was psychological. There _had_ to be lasting effects of it- who could come away unscathed from a person that had successfully claimed dominance over said-person, being constantly told and retold that you were someone else's _property_, and that they _owned_ you. That kind of twisted logic allowed justification for-

For...

Missions.

Deaths.

_Anything Blunt deemed fit_, Cub would- he would be _forced to accept._

Adapt or die.

No, not die.

Never die- but close to death, so close- to feel the _pain_.

Fox's first course of action wasn't attacking Blunt- no, he needed this to _stop_, he needed Cub to _know_.

Know that he wasn't a dog.

Know that he was_ human_\- normal, no; human, yes.

Know that he _wasn't Blunt's property_.

"It's OK, Cub," Ben said in a soothing tone, _which should have made Cub relax_. He pressed further. "No one owns you."

A brief pause- and he saw it.

It was slight- very slight, _too _slight- but he saw a fraction of the tension leave the boy's shoulders.

Eagle glared. "Especially not _him_." The statement was directed to the grey man, who remained unfazed.

The teenager stiffened as the Director of MI6 began speaking again. "Tell them they are wrong, Alex," Blunt said in an amused tone. "You said they would listen to you, remember?"

And the trap was set.

Hope's fire dimmed low.

K-Unit's features hardened.

It was a lose-lose situation, and Cub was right in the middle of it.

If Cub refused, Blunt would make him pay for disobeying.

If he didn't, K-Unit would have a choice- if they protested, saying he _was_ wrong, it was just proving to Cub that K-Unit wouldn't listen to him, and Blunt would easily take control, and they would lose any trust they had begun to build with Cub. If they _didn't_ object... Cub would think he _was_ Blunt's property.

"You can't make him do that!" Wolf burst out. "It's not fair to him!"

Alan Blunt gazed at him, unblinking. After a moment of silence, he spoke again. "One more thing... if K-Unit _does_ listen to you- I'll let you stay with them. For one week."

The teen's breaths hitched. An entire week? That was before Blunt would send him on another mission, but- a whole _week-_ of resting. With K-Unit.

Fists clenched, the soldiers remained quiet. It was unfair. It was totally and completely unfair to ask that of Cub- to force him and them to say that Cub was Blunt's _property,_ and for the young spy to watch.

Cub would choose the one week- they knew.

In the long run, it was better for him... wasn't it?

It _had_ to be.

They would rebuild that trust during that one week- they _would_. Cub would get to rest, eat, relax. He _needed_ that.

"You're wrong," the teenager said quietly, shoulders hunched. "I- I'm his... property."

"And?" Blunt prompted.

"You... _own _me."

And- K-Unit didn't say anything.

That was the worst part- _not defending him_.

Not protecting him.

Even when he needed it- when he _desperately_ needed it.

Blunt turned sharply to them. "K-Unit? What do you think of it?"

Wolf forced himself to calm down and _not lose control_. Signaled his men to keep quiet. "You own him," he said through grit teeth. "Cub is your property."

Lips twitched- a ghost of a smile. "That is correct."

(Knife in the back- and... the twist of the handle.)

Fox looked back to Cub, and saw-

His heart broke.

Cub, eyes glossy and distant.

Cub, as far away from Blunt _(and them)_ as the restraints would allow.

Cub, abandoned.

Cub, betrayed.

Cub, _and they couldn't protect him_.

Alan Blunt remained distantly bored, while K-Unit resisted the mutual and shared fury.

The door opened; two agents entered.

Blunt spared a glance at the teen. "K-Unit and I need to talk in private," then, "Take it to its room."

_Take it to its room._

It.

Not, "Take him to his room."

No, it was _Take it to its room._

Rage poured through all of the soldiers.

Blunt couldn't be _serious_.

No way.

But... he was.

And- the agents. They-

...weren't doing anything.

They didn't look shocked or surprised after being ordered to take a child to his room- at the bank. More importantly, they weren't horrified after Blunt had just referred Cub as an _object_, a _belonging_... one that Blunt solely owned and controlled.

Ben felt ill.

It was only then when he realized how corrupt the Sixth Department of Military Intelligence really was.

O-o-O-o-O

Alex should have been happy.

He _should_ have- because he'd just gotten a week of leave... to spend with K-Unit.

The same people who had just told him _(confirmed)_ that Blunt owned him,.

_He was Blunt's property_.

Details were hazy after that- he would need medical attention soon.

Briefly, he heard to the door open- which spiked his survival instincts enough to see who-

His heart sank- it was the lead agent again.

"Take it to its room."

_It._

Not him.

Which meant-

His mind raced, taking apart the sentence- realizing its significance.

Knowing the Blunt had chosen the words deliberately and that, he was-

Property.

And that Blunt owned him... and they weren't doing anything _(not protecting him. They said they would. They lied)._

And he would have-

The boy recoiled back from the agents as they neared- hands tugging harshly on the metal, dragging him _(it)_ to his feet, and the door and-

Away from K-Unit.

The teenager shot the soldiers a panicked look- they were leaving him again _(betrayal)_.

And- despite the comfort he felt with them, a break from the pain- maybe it was a good thing.

_They all left him._

_No different than the others._

O-o-O-o-O

The person that controls the gameboard can and _will_ control you through the other pieces.

O-o-O-o-O

**Question(s): Am I going too heavy on the dehumanization dog/master relationship? The plot is planned out well enough, but is this going at decent pace? **


	16. Staying (In)Sane

**What?! 100+ reviews?! No way LoaS deserves _that_ many... but thanks!**

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**Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider.**

O-o-O-o-O

"Now, back to business," Alan Blunt began as soon as the young spy had left. "We can continue our discussion more privately."

"Just get it over with," Eagle cut in, almost bitterly.

Wolf put in his two cents. "Hurry it up. We've got a teammate that to take care of."

The grey man continued.

They stared.

And stared.

O-o-O-o-O

"I can't _believe_ that man," Wolf snarled, the door closing behind him. "Treating _human beings_ like that."

Snake glanced at him warily; Wolf wasn't in his rant-mode, but it still would be best to stay out of his way.

"Let's just go get Cub," Eagle suggested. "This place gives me the creeps."

K-Unit could only agree.

Fox briefly thought through the labyrinth of corridors Mrs. Jones had led them through, and-

"This way to Cub's room," the spy said decisively.

Without hesitation, the other soldiers followed him.

A few minutes later, and they were back to the same room they had been (what seemed like) hours previously.

The door opened; hard eyes flickered warily to meet them.

"_Shit,_" Snake cursed, reacting faster than any of them. Worried eyes took in the abused teenager, arms cuffed behind him to the metal rail of the cot.

Cub was concentrating hard, brow furrowed in concentration because of-

"Fox, get over here," the medic snapped.

Unknowing to Snake, the soldiers were already behind him, taking in the same information, but a bit slower- taking in consideration of their specialties.

"Pick the lock," Snake ordered.

Cub, realizing what was happening, pressed hard against the headboard, fearful. "Don't do it. It's a test. Almost got it, and Blunt-"

But Fox had already gotten a lockpick and tension wrench out, and gently turned the teenager around.

Eagle and Wolf rolled their eyes, seeing the relief leave the boy's shoulders. He hadn't wanted to do it- Cub shouldn't have _had_ to pick the locks on the handcuffs in order to receive medical attention.

That was just- _wrong_.

"Done."

Snake took the soldier's place, snagging the necessary supplies from the open cabinet.

Luckily, Alex complied, albeit reluctantly, to the medic. Snake was definitely more qualified in cleaning and wrapping the injuries, especially considering the teen's limited training.

With a practiced hand, and a careful eye, the soldier was _gentle_, and Alex struggled inwardly against the instincts that were instilled into him- that he was, he needed to be-

For the first time in _(forever)_ a while, he relaxed.

No flinching as a hand that was _not his own_ took care of him.

No tension as K-Unit saw a number of things that should _not_ have been present on a teenager.

They didn't call him out on anything- no, they _accepted_ him. They didn't like what people were doing to him, and they would _never_ _(?)_ accept that... but they knew he was different.

They knew that he _wasn't_ normal, could never _be_ normal... and they had accepted that.

They..._ understood_.

"Are we going soon?" he asked quietly, afraid that the answer would be _no_. How many times had medics patched up his wounds, only to have Blunt send him back into the field?

_No._ Blunt had given him a week. He had earned it. Because- because-

_Don't think about that_.

He didn't think about it.

"Yeah," Wolf answered, a bit distracted. "Snake?"

"Almost done," Snake murmured, focused on setting the broken rib, and wrapping the others- the kid had taken one helluva beating. It was a wonder Cub wasn't unconscious already (in a _real hospital_) .

Cub couldn't hold back a wince the bandage pulled taut on his chest.

"You OK?" the medic asked, concerned.

The teen blinked, then nodded- but thought better of it, Snake noticed. A minor concussion, probably.

"This has happened before, right?" Fox guessed.

Cub seemed to hesitate- debating on whether or not to lie. "Yeah," he answered softly. The faces of previous of medics and soldiers- ones that had seen _there was something wrong with his situation_\- scrolled through his memories. They had been concerned, yes; had they taken action? No.

But K-Unit had.

The boy glanced at the familiar walls around him. He hadn't been here in a while, but there weren't any good memories.

"I just- " he broke off, closing his eyes momentarily- controlling himself, his actions, before composing himself, and opening his eyes once more. "I don't like it here."

Fox didn't like it.

It wasn't natural- but Cub _wasn't_ a normal teenager. He just needed to remember that.

Still... he couldn't help but think that teenagers shouldn't have had to _do_ that. Or learn _how_ to do it, in order to survive.

Despite the circumstance, Eagle grinned. "Me neither. Place gives me the creeps."

Cub's lips twitched- a sign of humor, perhaps? That was a good sign- but it was only a start. It was the only incentive he needed to continue.

"You already said that, Eagle. Ten minutes ago, remember?" Snake reminded him irritably. Information or observation only needed to be said once- more than that was more than necessary.

Eagle made a face. "It'll be alright, Cub." Shooting a dirty (but gleeful) look at the medic, he continued. "Just because _Snake_ doesn't have common sense or even a sense of humor doesn't mean he has to ruin it for the rest of us." The soldier sneaked a peek at the boy's face, and couldn't help but feel a burst of pride when a bit more smile-like face grew. It didn't look _so_ much like he had died and come back to life and lived to tell the tale.

Snake sighed, shaking his head. "I'm not going to quarantine you to bedrest for the next week." Here, he paused. "Mainly because you would find a way out of it, anyway. _But_, I don't want you straining yourself, alright?"

"OK," Cub agreed (a bit too easily).

Snake nodded, satisfied.

Eyes narrowed, Fox studied the room again. "When was the last time you were here?"

Cub immediately sobered. "About a month ago."

"What happened?" Wolf asked brusquely. Straight-to-the-point wasn't exactly the best course of action, but they _did_ need to know as much as possible.

The teenager swallowed. "He put the chip in."

They had almost forgotten about that.

Almost.

"It's OK, Cub," Eagle reassured him. "You don't have to tell us anything if you don't want to."

"No, it's fine," the boy said distantly. His eyes dropped to the steel handcuffs- something he had quickly grown to hate, and fear. They kept him under control too easily. "They..." he gestured vaguely to the bed. "They cuffed me to the bed, and-" he looked down. "Held me down." Cub closed his eyes, memories haunting him.

Fox felt guilty for bringing it up, but he knew it would help.

K-Unit shared experiences, and fears. Memories, too. And it was better, afterward- the details growing hazy.

But Cub hadn't had anyone- until now.

They were the only ones keeping him upright.

Keeping him _sane_.

Cub's eyes shot open. "Let's go."

Fox smiled faintly. "Home, then?"

"Yeah," Cub echoed. "Home."

O-o-O-o-O

What will keep you sane? No one. You are only how long you last.

O-o-O-o-O

**I need _your_ help. I don't care if you PM it to me or put it in a review, but the next couple of oneshots will be that K-Unit/Alex bonding time. Depending on the demand of ideas, I'll write them. Minimum 2x more oneshots of that before the main plot continues. So- give me all your awesome ideas! And thanks in advance.**

**(Oh, and Happy Late Pi Day!)**


	17. Confused Comfort

**Oh my god, you guys are amazing! Thanks so much for all the great ideas! Not all of them will fit in this fanfic, but I'll make sure to write them as separate oneshots. **

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**Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider.**

O-o-O-o-O

Alex frowned as he glanced out the window. "Why aren't we going to Fox's?"

Snake rolled his eyes- of _course_ he would have noticed.

"Safehouse," Eagle piped up.

Wolf scowled. "Not to mention Blunt said he would only let us stay with you as long as he could keep an eye on us," he grumbled.

The teen nodded. That made sense- it _was_ Blunt, after all.

Still...

Eagle nudged him gently. "You should get some rest. We still have to pick up some overnight bags- it might take a while."

The spy forced himself to relax, and zoned out from the window's scenery. It went against his instincts to always be aware of his surroundings, especially when not in control of the transportation. But he was so... _tired_.

Against all protests, he drifted off.

O-o-O-o-O

"Come on Cub- we're here."

The teen jerked up, taking in account of the people (K-Unit. Enemies? Unknown. Threat level? Three soldiers, one spy- high risk), and refreshed himself on the readily-available weapons and best escape routes. He turned to see the-

_No._

They wouldn't make him go _there_.

Too many- too many-

Fox's brow furrowed in confusion as he saw that Cub was still in the car.

Wolf had already gotten the majority of their overnight bags out of the trunk, Eagle and Snake were securing the perimeter, and-

Cub had awoken immediately after he had said his name (not natural), had re-assessed himself and his surroundings (_definitely_ not natural)... but when he had seen the safehouse, he had frozen.

"Cub?" Fox tested the waters carefully. "Have you been here before?"

"The _bastard_," Cub hissed. "He told me he _sold_ it."

_Shit_, he wasn't responding.

Now, all the members of K-Unit was looking at their charge, trying desperately to understand what he was saying.

Fox blinked- Cub had, without warning, slipped out of the car, stalking towards the iron gate in front of the Chelsea safehouse.

Cub effortlessly unlocked the complex latch on the gate, pushing it open. "Still creaks," he muttered.

Finally, he twisted around slightly to face them, features annoyed. "You coming?"

"This is weird," Snake said as they followed Cub through the front door. "The moment we get here, his personality changes. He's been here before."

Wolf frowned. "Not just visited- I think he..._ lived_ here."

Cub didn't seem very aware of their presence, either.

"I'm home, Jack!" After no one responded, Alex shrugged. "She's probably just out getting groceries." He frowned, turning back to them. "Who are you, again?"

_What the-?_

"We're friends of your uncle, remember?" Snake reacted quickly, shooting a warning glare to the others. "Evan Callins."

Awkwardly, the others followed in suit. Only Fox was the only other person that seemed composed.

Alex stared at them for a moment, before shaking his head, as if to clear his thoughts. "Sorry, I feel like I've seen you before." He hesitated. "Ian won't be here for a while, you can stay in the guest rooms."

Ben smiled. "Thanks, you've been a great help."

"So where's Ian?" Eagle asked, immediately making himself comfortable on the living room couch.

The teenager chewed his lip thoughtfully. "Probably on another business trip."

Fox swallowed his anger. Ian had been an _active_ spy? Not retired? He, a full-time spy himself, hardly had any time to himself- how could Ian have raised a _child?_ He glanced a the teenager once more. Obviously, he hadn't done it 'normally.'

"Is Ian gone a lot?" Wolf asked quietly, knowing the same implications that Fox had realized.

Alex smiled wistfully. "Yeah... I wish we had had more time before-" he stopped mid-sentence, and blinked. The boy tugged on a smile. "Nevermind."

Snake pursed his lips. This was bad. This 'safehouse' had too many memories- and Cub was living in his memories- _before_ Ian had died, before he had become a spy.

Still... it obviously wasn't perfect. Inwardly, Alex was beginning to question and reject- his current mindset- as reality. Would Cub have another breakdown once he came back to the present? Not only that, but he needed to talk to the rest of K-Unit before they accidentally did anything stupid.

Alex shook his head again. "Sorry, I'm sure you're all hungry. I'll go whip up something real quick."

Eagle opened his mouth to protest- but Fox and Snake hurried to agree.

"That'd be great, thanks," Snake said quickly, elbowing Eagle in the ribs to shut him up.

As soon as Alex had gone through a door, presumably going to the kitchen-

"But I'm a great cook!" Eagle argued.

Fox shushed him. "Be that as it may-" he wasn't about to admit Eagle was a good cook, even though it was true that only his own cooking rivaled the soldier's. "This is a _delicate_ situation. We need to have a talk- it was just as well that Cub's cooking."

"He's lived here before," Wolf pointed out. "Hence the old memories."

"And he's gone back to the state of mind he was in," Snake added. "Before he became a spy, before his uncle and guardian died."

"What happens if he stays this way?" Eagle wondered aloud.

What _would_ happen? Cub seemed so... innocent. Untainted by the world he had been forced in.

Or... would Blunt break him again? Except, this time, he would once again start with a clean slate.

Snake shook his head. "It's definitely not permanent. The mental block is already starting to break down. Plus, the only reason it happened is because..." he trailed off, grasping for the right words. His voice lowered. "This house is full of his memories from his _old_ life. I think one of the only reasons he lasted this long is because he detached himself _from_ those memories."

Silence.

"That's _awful_," Eagle whispered.

Wolf ran a hand through his head, weary. "No wonder it was simple enough for Blunt to break him. If Cub doesn't think of himself as the boy _used_ to be, Blunt could easily mold him into whatever he wanted."

The perfect weapon... the perfect spy.

"I wonder..." Fox looked thoughtful. "Why did Blunt put him with us in the first place... was it a test? If so," he began slowly, "the only thing that it did was bring us closer- giving him comfort, but tearing it away again. And then it happened again- letting him stay at my house for a bit. This is the third time."

"He's always been one step ahead," Eagle said softly.

"Blunt keeps building him up- only to break him down again." Snake's voice was quiet. "Over and over again- with Cub sinking lower and lower each time." He looked at them in horror. "And we're just tools in that."

Wolf clenched his fists- he wanted to hit something. "_We're_ the ones honing his precious weapon. We get close to him- Blunt's just going to use it against him."

"So what do we do?" Eagle asked. "Is there a trigger we can use to get Cub back to normal?"

Snake frowned. "The Bank might work- but it would have a bad affect on him, because, you know..."

Alex chose that moment to enter, balancing bowls spaghetti. "Sorry- it took longer than I expected," he apologized.

Eagle looked curiously at it. "Are those chili peppers? With green olives and olive oil?"

The teenager smiled, nodding. "I added some pepperonis, too." He smirked. "It soaked up a lot the heat, but if you can't handle it..."

Wolf rolled his eyes, but they widened considerably after the first bite. "_Water._" He choked, gasping.

Alex's smug smile was still present, walking slower than needed to the kitchen- and he freakin' hadn't brought water out with it!

The other soldiers had all taken small bites until the water had arrived- only Fox seemed to be taking it well.

Eagle snorted. Damned spies.

Ben sipped delicately- not gulping it down like the others- but frowned. It tasted- odd.

Blinking, he tried to subtly signal the others of his suspicions, but he was already fading into unconsciousness.

"Drugged," he managed to gasp out.

Before he passed out, he saw the laughing eyes of the teenager, mocking him- then they hardened, growing cold.

O-o-O-o-O

As Wolf began regaining consciousness, he was hit with questions.

And a lot of them.

First off, why had Cub felt the need to drug them?

Next, how on earth had he succeeded...?

That one was easy to answer: K-Unit _trusted_ their fifth member. If they hadn't, well- that would've been a different story altogether.

Considering Cub's current state-of-mind, perhaps the trust wouldn't be damaged- either way- Alex was varelse, not ramen.

Still, it stressed how _important_ it was to get the real Cub back.

With the main questions out of his way, Wolf began focusing on their current-current arms were tied behind him-ver well, in fact. Rope strong enough that he couldn't snap, but thin enough to knot properly. Ian had taught him well.

Those ropes, of course, had a weakness- knives.

Which, he could tell, had been removed from his person, along with his gun and backup, and the extra magazines- all gone.

And, by the material, he was still sitting on the same couch. Well, that wasn't surprising- there was no way Cub would've been able to move all four of the soldiers (one ex-soldier, he admitted grudgingly) to chairs (more suitable in captive- situations).

Except the small knife that Fox carried, in a place that would be impossible for Cub to find... and that Fox was sitting next to him.

The opportune moment. He needed to wait for the opportune moment.

Feeling that any and all information had already been gained by faking unconsciousness (which he had done so automatically, he couldn't help thinking with a twinge of pride), Wolf slowly opened his eyes.

Fox was the only other one that had awoken, most likely because he had only drunk a relatively small amount of the drug.

Luckily, Cub didn't do the villain-cliche, "Oh, so you're awake."

No, he merely stared at them, wordlessly trying to pick up as much as possible from them.

The soldier immediately saw a neat stack of their weapons, along with the clips and extra magazines. Cub had unloaded them, and put them all on safety- smart, yes, but it wasn't something Alex the Spy would have done- Cub still didn't know that Ian was dead. That meant, until they could talk some sense into him, they would stay alive. For now, at least- it would be simple enough.

Currently, Cub was studying their combat knives- _damn,_ that kid was good- had had found all of them, except Fox's non-combative knife. That was one relief, at least.

With a quick glance at Eagle and Snake- who had just woken up- the teenager locked his eyes on Wolf, who he recognized as the leader. "You're soldiers, right?"

Snake gave him a subtle nod, to go ahead and answer. They needed to break Cub out of this trance, but they needed to be gentle with the questions and the prying- they had no clue as to what Alex would do if he got angry, and if they hadn't gotten free, yet (which would improbable. They definitely wouldn't make the same mistake twice, of not making sure on Cub's- er, _sanity_)...

"You should know," Wolf shot out gruffly. "You trained with us, remember?"

The boy gave a quiet chuckle, then stopped abruptly, pain etching his features.

(Wolf felt something small and metallic press into his hands.

_Finally._)

"Cracked ribs will do that to you," Snake said softly.

The teen looked confused, arms clutching at his ribcage. "What did you do to me?" he whispered hoarsely.

His memories... the only ones before going into the house, were the ones that Cub had been making on the spot- those were the memories that were breaking down quickly, Snake realized. They just needed to dig deeper, and pull him out.

"You're wrong if you think _we_ were the ones that beat you up," Eagle said coldly- not toward him, specifically- he was blaming himself for not being there when those MI6 agents had 'interrogated' him.

"How old are you Cub?" Fox tried tactfully. "Do you know what year it is?"

Cub hesitated, but didn't correct him on calling him out by his codename- that was good.

"Fourteen," Cub blurted out. "1991."

He didn't seem to notice he was answering _their_ questions, not the other way around.

Yet his eyes were betraying him- first in confusion, afterward an outright lie- and even then he was second-guessing himself.

But it wasn't enough.

"When did you last see Ian?" Wolf pressed. "Or Jack?"

Alex clenched his jaw, angry. "Ian went on a business trip. And Jack- she-she's getting groceries!" he blurted out, but his voice was wavering.

"You know that's not true," Eagle shot back.

His eyes were switching from one soldier to another, wild and unsure of who or what to focus on. "I- you're wrong!" Cub glared at them in turn. "You don't know _anything!_" he sneered.

Yet... they could see this personality fading away.

Alex- the old Alex- was being replaced by Cub, spy and soldier, through-and-through, defensive and wary- suspicious, paranoid, _dangerous_. Cub, with the animalistic (yet _not natural_) instincts that had _kept him alive_ all these years, the ones that his uncle had taught... and his master had honed.

The broken by that they _would_ fix.

And they would heal him the _right_ way- not through these fantasies where Cub was living in old memories, when he was completely unable to face the cold, hard, reality of his _true_ memories/life.

"Where does your uncle work?" Snake asked softly.

Cub's eyes fogged over. "He- he works at a-a -"

K-Unit saw the chance.

And Fox took it.

"A bank," he finished quietly.

The result was instantaneous.

Cub let out a choked moan, knees buckled from under him- one hand clawing his right shoulder, the other clasped protectively around his ribs.

Wolf and Fox had already sprung up; Wolf tossing the small knife to Snake, who caught it awkwardly and proceeded to cut himself free, along with Eagle.

Then they were all crowded around Cub, and it was unanimously decided for Snake to handle him.

"Don't make me go back there," he gasped out. "_Please_, don't make me go back there."

"It's OK, Cub," Snake soothed; the boy clutching to him like a lifeline, head buried into the soldier's shoulder. "We're not going there right now."

Cub continued to mutter unrecognizable things over and over again, even as Snake continued with his own murmurings of comfort.

Carefully, the soldier lifted him onto one of the couches, wary of his injuries, and allowed the boy to melt into the comfort... which, he guessed, hadn't happened to him in a very long time.

O-o-O-o-O

To a spy, comfort is always associated with pain. There _is_ not comfort without pain... only pain without comfort.


	18. Forever Dead

**Thanks for all the awesome support! And the answer of one of the reviewers wondering if Life of a Spy was done... well, I guess this update answers that question. Except that No.17 could have _just _as easily ended it... there is still more to be done.**

**(Sorry, didn't have the chance to reply to everyone- but I make sure to answer any questions. My profile has any guest reviewer replies, PM box for the signed ones.)**

**I know it's not what you expected, but...**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider.**

O-o-O-o-O

Snake frowned, deep in thought.

"I'm worried about him," he said finally.

He didn't need to same whom he was referring to- nor did any of the other K-Unit members need to ask.

It was another one of their more-than-frequent unanimous meetings that they seemed to have daily.

The soldier moved to explain. "He's hardly _reacting-_ and even that, barely trying to stay alive. He doesn't talk, he doesn't eat- and he isn't sleeping well." A pause, and, then, as an afterthought: "We're not getting through to him."

"Is he still in shock?" Wolf questioned, worried.

Eagle's lips curled distastefully. "It's only been a day."

It was a reminder to all of them-

_Six days._

They only had another six days until Blunt tore him away from them again- _if_, that is, he kept his word.

And they definitely didn't trust the Director of MI6.

Fox tapped at his chin thoughtfully. "How much is affected by this house- and the memories?" The question was directed toward Snake. They needed to know- was his current mindset completely untainted by his mental breakdown?

The soldier chewed at his lip. "It's definitely stemming from his memories, yes. I just really wish I knew what was going in that head of his..."

O-o-O-o-O

Alex closed his eyes.

He didn't want to be here.

This house was full of painful memories- ones that he _didn't want to remember_. Because- because it was just a reminder of how much he had _lost_.

How far gone he was.

And it was too late to go back- Blunt had already made that clear.

This house was tied with his _old_ life- the one that had died long ago... and it _hurt_ when he remembered them- when Blunt forced him to.

Didn't he realize that it was _easier_ to do missions if he accepted that he would never be that 'normal' boy that lived here?

It reopened wounds that _didn't need to-_

He didn't like it.

And he knew he was withdrawing from K-Unit... but maybe that was a good thing? Maybe it would be easier when the end of the week came and-and-

The teen swallowed.

_Don't think about it_.

Besides, it was impossible to even _sleep_ in this house- he couldn't.

Not here.

Not _ever_.

It made sense, then... just to not do anything.

To hardly react as food was forced to him, with Snake's coaxing, "Come on, Cub."

He hadn't gone to Ian's room.

He hadn't gone to his own room.

Nor Jack's- god, _no,_ definitely not her room.

And he had yelled at Eagle when the soldier had gone 'exploring' and had been about to go in Ian's office.

That had been one of the few times he had outwardly showed any emotion within the past thirty-six hours.

He had _tried_ sleeping- but it had taken _forever_ to get to sleep, and then he had only snatched a few hours.

But it wasn't anything new, anyway.

Blunt didn't normally give him enough sleep- why would it have changed if the Director had sent him specifically to his old house?

And- the _nightmares_. He inwardly shuddered.

They hadn't graced them with their _lovely_ presence- yet.

But it was only a matter of time.

O-o-O-o-O

"Cub?"

When the hard eyes didn't come up to meet his, Wolf guessed that the boy already was aware of his presence, or didn't care.

He wasn't sure which outcome was more unsettling.

"Fox wanted to let you know that dinner is ready." He entered the room carefully.

It was an odd choice- one of the guest bedroomos. But the soldier assumed that there were less memories here.

"Not hungry," the boy mumbled.

It was the same thing he had said before every meal.

Wolf came over to him- near the window- sitting beside him. "Is there anything you want to talk about?" he asked softly- a word that didn't describe him often.

In reply, the teen shook his head- shoulders hunched, knees drawn close to him.

And... he was on the floor.

The soldier knew it was intentional.

Wolf laid a hand on his shoulder- the spy twitching minutely.

The message was clear, yet silent.

"I've killed people before," he began quietly, a dazed and glossy look on his face. "My guar- temporary guardian-"

Wolf's face was grim. He couldn't even bring himself to say _guardian_, because that wasn't true. MI6 was his legal guardian, and Blunt had made sure Alex didn't forget it.

"She-she died," here, his breaths hitched. He was trying to control his emotions, but failing. "Mission. Captured- both of us," he gasped out. "There was a bomb- under her seat. She- they made me _watch_." Horror was in his voice- and, Wolf noticed- survivor's guilt. He blamed himself... and MI6 hadn't bothered telling him that they were to blame.

"It's alright, Cub," he murmured, allowing the boy to lean into him. "It wasn't your fault."

With those words, Cub let the tension go, the pain and memories that had haunted him for him so long... faded away.

O-o-O-o-O

_Yelling._

_Screams._

_Fire._

_It was a warzone- and he was right in the middle of it._

_Grenades, and bombs and-_

_The loud banging noises that indicated gunfire- and a lot of it._

_Machine guns, probably._

_AK-47? It sure sounded like it._

_People were dying around him- screaming his name. _

_**"It's all your fault!"**_

_Ah- survivor's guilt. Of course._

_His enemies awaited him, watching, waiting... for the perfect opportunity- so when he wasn't looking- they would strike. _

O-o-O-O-O

He awoke with a start, eyes wide, sweat clinging to him- indicating... a nightmare?

Wolf stood over him, worry etching his features. "Iraq?"

Eagle nodded, just noticing the other members of K-Unit were also awake.

He didn't apologize for waking them up- it had happened to all of them before at some point or another- and definitely more than once. And he knew better- the first time it had happened, and after he had apologized, Wolf had just rolled his eyes, telling him there was nothing to be sorry for.

The next night, it had been Snake to wake up, screaming.

Eagle sat up quickly- Cub had also joined them, in the corner of the room, a wary and apprehensive look on his face.

A grim smile. "We all get nightmares, Cub."

The boy looked down, avoiding his gaze. "Yeah," he mumbled.

Snake shook his head. "We're not going to get to sleep anytime soon. Tea, anyone?"

Grunts of agreement met him.

O-o-O-o-O

"Do you get nightmares, too, Cub?"

The teen shot Eagle a sharp look. Hesitation, then, "Yeah, I do." Hastily, he rushed to explain. "Not very often."

Snake raised an eyebrow. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. It happens to people... people in our business."

Slump of the shoulders. "I guess."

Fox frowned slightly. "Who ever told you nightmares were a bad thing?" He was just relieved that Cub was talking again- Wolf's earlier conversation with him must have done some good.

Cub looked surprised. "No one, it's just..." he trailed off.

"It's not a sign of weakness," Snake pressed on. "It's a sign that you're human. No one should be able to go through what you did without a scratch."

The boy shrugged. "I guess. It's just- you know," he broke off awkwardly.

Wolf's features darkened. "Yeah, we know."

There was a moment of non-awkward silence.

"What happened in Iraq?" Cub asked cautiously.

The soldiers stiffened.

Snake's eyes grew haunted. "Horrible things, Cub. Horrible things."

Alex got the message- it wasn't that bad things had _happened_. Not just that. No, they had _done_ it. It was one thing to experience it... another entirely to be the one causing it.

Eagle noticed the boy's mellowed expression, and elbowed him playfully- earning him a stern look from Snake. "It's OK, Cub. It's what we signed up for." And, to soothe Cub's vexed features, he continued. "And you _didn't_ sign up for it."

"Yeah," the teen murmured in vague agreement.

Fox frowned. They weren't getting to him. Not one bit. "You ever been to Iraq?"

The spy froze. "Yes," he answered tersely. And, "I didn't like it."

K-Unit didn't push further- they understood perfectly.

"How many countries have you been to?" Wolf asked.

Cub hesitated, thinking hard. "I... don't know."

Fox pursed his lips. That definitely wasn't a good sign.

"Which one was your favorite?"

"None of them," came the immediate reply.

_Definitely_ not good... but at least he was being truthful.

Chewing thoughtfully on his lip, Fox wasn't sure if he should continue the questions. Cub was answering, yes, but he was irritated- not to mention answering shortly, or even cryptically. He didn't want to push more than he needed.

Wolf sighed. "Cub, you need to understand, that although we can't imagine what it must have been like going through those kinds of horrific things as a _teenager_\- god knows we're treated better than you- but we _are_ soldiers. We didn't have picturesque childhoods... but we've experienced enough to _know_ and _feel_ a taste of what you're going through- PTSD, mainly."

Cub looked annoyed, but Snake cut him off before he could say anything. "We _know_ what PTSD is, and all of us have it- sometimes the best thing to do is suppress the memories, and let them fade. Othertimes... it's better to tell other people. We get that you don't trust easily, and we understand why- but you _need_ to know that if you ever _do_ need someone to talk to, we're here for you."

Eagle sobered. "We didn't do it right the first time. We were trying to build a one-sided relationship, and we were believing anything MI6 was saying about you. You paid for our mistakes, and we learned from them as well."

Cub frowned, bewildered and confused- K-Unit could tell he wasn't used to this, and didn't know how to react. "Thanks," he whispered.

And he meant it.

This week- it would go by in a blur... but he damn well was going to make sure it was the best he'd had in awhile.

"My nightmares..." Eagle ran a hand through his hair. "They're almost always in Iraq." The soldier closed his eyes. "Cub... we _killed_ people there." His voice lowered. "Not all of them deserved them... and they didn't always die quickly."

"Two wars," Cub said hoarsely. "Same side. And death happens either way."

O-o-O-o-O

People die.

And you are responsible for their deaths.

And you won't ever forget that.

O-o-O-o-O

**If _anything_ needs to be changed, let me know! I was unsure of Alex's character in this one...**


	19. Calm Before the Storm

**Eh- one more day and it would have made it three weeks. I sincerely apologize- school has been, well, _school. _**

**As this K-Unit bonding week is drawing to a close, I want to thank- *taking a deep breath, preparing to copy and paste names*: Ren O'neil, MusicalG23, 3326freespirit , ColourPages, 19sweetgirl96, Guest (Chapter 16, Mar 16), and silver-eyedLadyofDarkness for all your awesome ideas! If you haven't seen your idea yet, or some form of your idea, it means it's coming later; or if it doesn't quite fit into this story dynamic, it's going to be written into a separate oneshot(s) later. **

**And thanks for all the other reviewers! You guys rock!**

**Guest Review/NonPM replies- go to my profile.**

**Signed reviews- check your inbox.**

**Feel free to PM me anytime.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider.**

01000001-01010010

The days were passing quickly.

Too quickly, Snake thought bitterly.

Cub had rested- hell, they had _all_ been relaxing.

It had been the third day when Wolf had started grumbling to them about needing to go to a gym before they became too lazy.

All four of the soldiers had been in awe when Cub had wordlessly led them to a branched-off room in the basement.

It had been the largest and well-stocked home gym that they had ever seen. There were a few machines- but they weren't impressed with that- more like the large variety in weights and the freakin' genuine sparring mat.

Snake had strictly forbidden Cub in participating in their workouts- and he was forced to sulk in the outskirts of the home gym, but still watched them. Rather creepily, in fact- having a teenager critique every move the soldiers made.

Except they didn't know that Alex had felt the same way every day of his life until his uncle died.

O-o-O-o-O

"So what's the deal with this house?" Eagle casually asked, relaxing on one of the living room couches.

Snake held his breath- hoping Cub wouldn't react to the question too drastically. He glared as the soldier continued.

"I mean, did MI6 kick you out or anything?"

"You could say that," the teenager replied bitterly. "I told MI6 to sell it after I moved to America. They told me they did- and that it wasn't available anymore."

"And I'm assuming you didn't get any money for it," Fox said quietly.

Cub looked down. "MI6 are my legal guardians. Anything my uncle owned... well, Blunt controls."

"That's messed up," Eagle muttered. "I mean, selling themselves the house and using it as a _safehouse_."

"Yeah..." Alex said distantly, a vacant look in his face.

Wolf agreed. It _was_ sick. Taking advantage of something like that- destroying a person's life in that way. There would be no guarantee that the money would still be there when Alex came of age, and he doubted Blunt would let go of his toy agent so easily.

To save him without breaking him would be...

Impossible?

No.

Extremely difficult, considering the amount of power they currently had?

Yes.

But not impossible- and that was what counted.

O-o-O-o-O

As well as MI6 had stocked the pantry, they would still need to make a quick shopping trip- there were, of course, three and one ex-soldiers; and Cub, well... he had been eating more than he had started out- but he got full all too quickly. Snake had made sure he hadn't been overwhelmed with all the food... but he was still worried. If Blunt had given them a few more weeks, Cub might to gain the weight he had lost- and desperately needed. Except all their work would be lost when he was sent back into the field.

Cub had briefly described the dynamic to them, albeit somewhat reluctantly.

Back-to-back missions, he called them.

It had been his punishment for running away.

Not one or two in a row, but _four_. And even then, they had ended because he had _run_.

But... even the regular missions- the amount of rest was... well, it was no wonder Cub had been barely conscious when he had stumbled into Fox's house, nearly two weeks ago.

Snake frowned. Had it really been only a few weeks?

It had seemed like a lifetime ago, when they had all been ignorant of Cub's situation.

It was interesting, really: how different Cub's missions had been, before and after Jack had died. From what Cub had said to them, his first - missions had consisted of his age being an important advantage/ factor. Now, he was mainly doing the assignments that regular agents would, not necessarily _easy_, but were certainly able to do.

Snake suspected there was more to it- he knew Blunt was specifically showing Cub that he _wasn't_ needed- not really- and yet he pushed him harder than any adults. He was showing him that... it wouldn't end; even when he turned eighteen.

It wouldn't stop.

Snake smiled grimly. Not if they could help it.

01000001-01010010

"Can I see your shoulder?"

The spy's gaze flickered to the medic. "Why?" he asked flatly- defensively, Snake noticed with a grimace.

"I know a couple microsurgeons," Snake explained. "We could- you know, try to take it out..." he awkwardly trailed off.

Any normal person in the same situation would have allowed a small hope to blossom.

Alex didn't- too many people had let him down in the past.

The teen merely hunched over, head bent low. "Blunt would just put another one in."

Snake frowned. There was no emotion in his tone- merely a cold, hard fact. But perhaps that non-emotion _was_ an emotion- or maybe covering one up?

"Please?" The soldier tried tentatively.

Cub eyed him warily- trying to sense any ulterior motives, he guessed.

After a moment-

"Alright," Cub finally relented. Without another word, he shrugged the shirt off.

Snake didn't gasp in horror- he wasn't even surprised- he had seen too many 'war wounds'; anyway, even so, Cub studied his reaction carefully- and was satisfied when it was genuine.

The medic came closer, peering at the right shoulder carefully. After a quick glance, it was obvious that it would be difficult to take out- it was dangerously close to his neck- nestled right under the caracoid process.

"How bad is it?"

The medic pursed his lips. "I'm not an expert in microsurgery," he admitted, a bit hesitant. "But... from what I can tell- it's bad. I would need to find an expert in microsurgery, at the very least."

"Yeah." Cub quickly hitched his shirt back on.

Snake was about to say more, when Fox entered the kitchen.

"Come on, it's time to go," he beckoned them. "Shopping, remember?"

Alex clenched his jaw, tensing.

The boy brushed past him- Fox's eyes widening in surprise as Cub casually put his forefinger in ju-jitsu finger hold.

A pause.

"You're lucky I didn't break it," Cub muttered- a low yet dangerous voice, before releasing it.

Without another word, he stalked out of the room.

0100001-01000101

Ben frowned, moving his finger carefully- Cub was right; he hadn't broken it. "Is he OK?"

Snake raised an eyebrow. "Are you?"

Fox scowled. "I'll be fine, he didn't do anything."

"I was just looking at his shoulder." Snake hesitated. "But I thought he was doing alright, considering what he's been through."

The door was carelessly thrown open, and Eagle entered hastily. "Wolf says to get over here before-" he noticed the subdued atmosphere. "What's wrong? And where's Cub?"

"I don't think he's in the mood right now," Ben replied smoothly, shutting up Snake's snort and a sarcastic "You think?" with a glare. "You and Wolf go right ahead, Snake and I will stay with him."

"Okay..." he agreed slowly, eyeing them carefully. "You sure?"

Snake nodded. "Yes, I think it would be best."

After Eagle had left, Fox exchanged glances with Snake. They needed to figure out what this was about.

0100001-01000101

Cub didn't come out of his room- at all- for the rest of the day.

Whenever Fox made his hourly-routine checks on the spy, he was always in the same place- the darkest corner of the room, staring vacantly at the floor; nor did he respond to him.

"-and that's all I did. Seriously, I just told them it was time to go get groceries."

Snake chewed thoughtfully on his lip, while Wolf and Eagle absorbed the new information. "Do you remember what your body language was?"

"Nonthreatening- I was near the door," Fox began, demonstrating with the hall doorway. "I was just-" he cut off, realization dawning.

"Well? What is it?" Wolf asked gruffly- and impatiently.

"I was-" he was already searching for answers on Cub's reaction to-

"-beckoning him," Snake finished quietly.

Eagle raised an eyebrow. "That's it?"

"It has to mean _something_," Wolf pointed out. "At least, to Cub it does."

"Yes, but..." Fox brightened up suddenly, plucking his laptop from the coffee table.

The other three soldiers moved closer to the screen.

"Cub's a spy- he's been immersed in many different cultures," Fox explained. "And now I'm wondering if I somehow insulted or offended him."

Snake nodded, agreeing. "That makes sense- he's extremely perceptive. And in his... current mental state- it wouldn't be far-fetched to say that he would pick up on it, and take it literally."

It didn't take long.

"_Shit,_" Fox hissed.

Eagle winced. "That bad, huh?"

"He really thought you...?" Wolf massaged his forehead. This was a mess.

"What are you doing?"

The harsh voice made the soldiers turn guiltily around.

Fox rubbed the back of his neck, hyperaware of his current body language- and how Alex would analyze it. "About earlier- I'm sorry, Cub- I didn't mean to..."

Cub glared darkly, daring him to finish the sentence.

And he did, anyway. "I didn't mean it like- I wasn't calling you a dog."

Cub's expression didn't change.

Fox sighed, continuing. "And- I'm sorry."

"It's fine," he said tightly, joining them on the chair opposite them.

Eagle broke the silence with a question.

"When did you go to the Philippines?"

Alex shrugged. "I dunno... a couple months ago? I'm not sure... they all blur together."

Fox nodded sympathetically- still, that wasn't necessarily comforting. "Where was the favourite place you went with Ian?"

The boy's lips twitched into a small smile. "France, probably. We had a lot of fun- he took me to _all_ the best spots, and..."

Later, that night, Snake was glad they were able to have a casual- and even _pleasant_ conversation- even after that day's dramatic fiasco.

Still... all of that was quickly shattered the next morning.

The last day had just ended... two days early.

O-o-O-o-O

For a spy, peace does not and cannot exist. Even when feeling some form of this 'peace'... it will not last. Prepare yourself for what lies to come.


	20. Order, Obey

**I apologize in advance. I was reluctant to post this, because, well... it's so short! But... faster update, yeah? Next one should be pretty soon, too. This length really is unusual, but it needed to be separate from the next chapter.**

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**Oh, and thank you to Armand who saw the mistake before I made it!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider.**

O-o-O-o-O

Alex's eyes shot open.

A phone was ringing.

Vibrate, it sounded like- except it seemed both muted, but was distantly echoing.

Moonlight spilled through the cracks of the shades- mainly smothered by the way the heavy drapery that shrouded it.

Nighttime.

2:00 or 3:00PM, by the look of it. Who would be calling- ?

Ah. Stupid question.

Alex mentally berated himself- there was only one person it would be.

The only problem was... he didn't have a cellphone. Not now, at least- they always seemed to be destroyed too easily (and too quickly).

It wouldn't have been one of K-Unit's- they hardly came into his room, anyway, and they wouldn't be so careless as to leave their phones around.

There was only one other possibility he could think of- that MI6 had hidden one in this room, and somehow had predicted which room he would pick while staying at his old house (which was oddly disturbing, now that he thought about it. It was, unfortunately, hardly surprising).

It didn't take much effort to find it, but he _did_ have to find it quickly- too many past mistakes of ignoring phone calls; or worse, he grimaced, picking up the phone and _still_ ignoring it.

The teen pried off the metal grate that filtered the ventilation system, plucking up the phone that was still buzzing softly.

He rolled his eyes- Unknown Caller ID.

Of course.

How obvious.

How predictable.

Still, there was a moment of hesitation- before remembering the previous times when Blunt had dolled out punishments all too eagerly.

"Yes?" he asked tersely.

_"Really, Alex,"_ the dry voice began. _"That's no proper way of addressing the Director of MI6."_

He had mentally prepared himself for that voice- but hadn't realized how much _power_ could be relayed over a telephone line.

Even now, it was practically stifling.

"I apologize, sir," Alex forced his voice to remain steady, resisting the urge to fling the phone across the room, and then be smothered by the comfort K-Unit could- and _would_\- provide.

"With all due respect, sir," the boy said quickly, before Blunt could cut him off. "I still have two more days left, and-"

_"Quiet, Alex,"_ the harsh voice reprimanded him. _"I decide when you come back; not you, and not K-Unit."_ A pause. _"Do you understand?"_

"Yes, sir," he said quietly, subdued.

_"Very good."_ The amusement in his tone was clear. _"There will be a car waiting for you outside- you will not resist, nor will you tell K-Unit,"_ he ordered sharply.

Alex's heart sank. "When?"

"_Now."_

The line clicked dead.

He closed his eyes. Of course- it would mean no time to prepare, or change his mind about not telling K-Unit, or even going at all.

Alex quickly threw on some clothes, before cautiously going to the window.

He was only on the ground-level, which was a relief- but K-Unit _were_ soldiers; he would have to be careful.

Alex clicked the lock off; the window slid open easily.

The spy slipped out, silent as the grave; a deadly shadow of the night.

O-o-O-o-O

Orders are orders. Following them will cause pain, yet to disobey is far worse.

O-o-O-o-O

**Okay, I know this is an unusual request, but I would like you, in your own words (no duh), to describe Blunt. 'cause I'm going to need that next chapter. I'm sure you'll be able to come up with something ;)**


	21. (Absolute) Power Corrupts

**Oh man. Twenty-one chapters... has it really been that many? And 157 reviews?! Yikes.**

**Wow, I had a bunch of responses of how to describe Blunt. Anyways- thank you once again to Guest (Chap 20, Apr. 23), FeigningMischief, ink2parchment, Theflyinghamster, Justrockzyxxx, Ceriarcher, BooksLover2000, Musical G23, Guest (Chap 20, Apr. 26). And, again, thanks to all of the encouraging reviews- including Torchwood Cardiff and Armand, who clear up anything that seems confusing or illogical. Thanks to all of you guys!**

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**Almost everything in bold were the descriptive-suggestions from the reviewers mentioned above. Actually, the entire first section (in italics) was written by Justrockzyxxx, which I think was done very well.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider.**

O-o-O-o-O

_The man sat motionless behind his desk; his posture impeccable and features emotionless as he regarded Alex._

_He was wearing his usual grey suit- no creases or specks of lint. And again, grey eyes behind the grey glasses were also devoid of emotion, making it impossible for Alex to work out what he was thinking- it could be anything from a cunning plot, to something selfish- or perhaps about the weather. All in all, it was impossible to tell._

_Alex might as well be nonexistent to Mr. Alan Blunt, Director of MI6. He moved slightly to beckon Alex to the chair._

_"Alex. How good it is to see you again."_

O-o-O-o-O

Things had turned slightly chaotic when K-Unit found the empty bedroom the next morning.

They were all soldiers.

They didn't panic under the same amount of stress 'normal, functioning people' would.

No, the reaction of shock lasted only a moment before being replaced by a forced calm, intent on fixing the problem by the most effective and efficient means.

"Fox, can you track him?" Wolf asked in a clipped tone.

The spy shook his head. "Already tried. The kid's good- it only goes to the sidewalk before disappearing completely."

"Or a car just picked him up," Eagle muttered.

"Cub wouldn't leave willingly," Wolf snapped, eyes angry- he was already on edge.

Eagle raised an eyebrow mockingly. "Oh, yeah? No signs of a struggle or a fight. He doesn't have a cellphone, and none of us heard anything. It's just like last time- he upped and left." Loyalty was important to him- especially if someone broke it. He couldn't help that he was uber-paranoid about things like that.

Wolf's mouth opened to retort, but Snake interjected quickly. "Stop fighting. You both know it's not going to help us find Cub."

After a moment, Wolf sighed, wearily rubbing his face.

It was unusual for them to be fighting like this. Ever since basic, they were decently close- normally, at least. Cub was an added factor- one that caused them to become extremely protective over him, all for different reasons. He was an unknown.

"MI6 are still able to track him," Fox pointed out. Then, with a meaningful glance at all of them, "And we all know it wouldn't be unlike Blunt to take him back early like this.

"What if he found someone to take the chip out?" Eagle wondered aloud.

"Unlikely," Snake said briefly, before moving to elaborate. "On the slight chance that he found someone, he probably would have taken it out already."

"Unless he was waiting for the opportune moment," Eagle pointed out.

A moment of silent contemplation

"So we have to choose," Wolf began. "One, we call MI6 and risk Cub being caught if he really _is_ trying to run away. Or two, we wait to call them- or don't call them at all- and try to find him on our own."

Fox hummed thoughtfully. "We won't be able to find him without MI6's help- but then that means he's under their power/control again."

"I say we wait two days- until the week finishes," Wolf proposed.

"Two days?" Eagle asked scornfully, with a hint of bitterness. "Remember what MI6 did to him in an_ hour?_"

"I don't think Blunt will set agents on him again- at least not this time," Snake spoke up. "Blunt uses him for _missions_; it's going to take at _least_ another week or two before he sends him back to the field."

"And we all know what Blunt's 'tender loving care' looks like," Eagle went on sarcastically, ignoring the warning glare Wolf was sending him. "Anyway, Blunt's also a **sadistic, power-hungry bastard** who's only pleasure in life is to abuse Cub."

"Elaborate, much?" Fox piqued; yet the humor was nonexistent- they all knew that every word Eagle said was true.

"So we wait," Snake stated, gazing at the others for mutual confirmation and agreement; there were nods all around- no one spoke. The life of a boy- and a spy- was in their hands.

And they had just given him to the devil.

O-o-O-o-O

Two days.

Two days of patient waiting.

Two days of looking up at every door that opened.

Two days of jumping at every phone call- none of which turned out to be MI6 or Alex.

Two days of anticipation for _something_, **anything**... which only led to disappointment (or relief).

Two days-

And suddenly it was over.

The fighting hadn't gotten _too_ bad- most of them were only going through the motions.

Two days hadn't seemed like much at first- but they were agonizingly slow.

It was the morning of the eighth day- the day that they _should_ have taken Alex back to MI6... back to Blunt.

10:00AM.

Fox had very visibly grabbed the car keys; they all wordlessly filed out of the house.

He had already explained to them why he didn't have much power in MI6, in the same way the other soldiers were expected to obey their commanding officers.

_"I'm a spy,"_ he had said calmly. _"Spies are **used**;__ they're taken advantage of. They chose me first, but **I** was the one that chose this specific job. I knew what I was getting into- the Heads have all the power, all the control... I can't do anything for Cub. If anything, being directly under Blunt **prohibits**__ me from helping him."_

There hadn't been any more discussions after that.

It was s tense ride to the Bank, but K-Unit was both dreading and relieved when they finally pulled up to the familiar building; and, as Fox had put it, one of the worst kept covers in the British Intelligence Community- _everyone_ knew it wasn't a bank.

Which was why it was surprising with what happened next.

"What do you _mean_ this is a bank?!" Wolf growled out. "It's _the_ worst kept 'secret' in Special Operations. We're here to see _Blunt_, dammit!"

The receptionist looked politely put out (what that even a thing?). "I'm sorry, sir. If you do not want to open an account, I'm afraid I will have to call security- you are making a scene in front of the other customers."

Before Wolf could 'kindly' explain to her that they were _fake_ customers, _hired_ to be there, Fox had pulled him back and slipped in front of him. "I apologize for my friend's rude behavior," he said smoothly. "These men were recently hired for a separate security contract. I do actually work here, as an overseas bank manager."

The woman raised an eyebrow. "And your name is...?"

"Benjamin Daniels." Fox smiled. "But you can just call me Ben."

She completely ignored the flirtation. "I'm going to look for you in the directory of employees." After a brief typing on her computer, she looked back up. "I'm sorry, sir, but your name has not been listed. If you have no more business here, I'm afraid you will have to leave," the woman apologized, genuinely sounding sincere- but he knew it was fake.

Fox bit his lip. It would _not_ be wise to go against the security of MI6- for them, _or_ Cub. If Blunt had him... and it certainly seemed to be pointing in that direction at the moment, there was no guarantee Blunt wouldn't dole out some sick punishment for _their_ actions.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," Fox began, albeit it came out forced. "I must be at the wrong bank. Thank you for your time."

Without waiting for an answer, the spy turned around sharply, leading the others along with him.

Refusing them access had been an intentional act of Blunt- as if he needed to show how much power he had.

"Now what?" Eagle asked as they went back to the car.

Fox grit his teeth. "We wait."

"For what?"

"Blunt's next move."

O-o-O-o-O

The phone call came exactly three hours after they had gotten back tot he Chelsea 'safehouse.'

"Yes?" Fox answered tersely- his cellphone, not one of the other's.

_"Your's and K-Unit's stunt at the Bank did not amuse me,"_ the voice said coldly.

The wording... Fox's mind raced, pulling the sentence apart. Blunt had specifically separated K-Unit and himself- reminding him that he still worked for him _(still under his power)._

"We need to see Alex," Ben pressed. "We still have two days left."

A dry chuckle. _"Lost him, have you?"_

"If you don't have him," Ben chose his wording carefully, "than please let us have the access to track him."

_"I will deploy my men within the hour; I'm sure we will find him within a fortnight."_

Unbelievable.

Blunt had the _audacity_ to sound _sincere_, dammit!

"We know you put a microchip in him," Ben continued with forced calmness. "Just let us- " He was abruptly cut off.

_"I have confidence we will be able to find him, but enough with this 'microchip' nonsense."_

"You could have his location in less than _five minutes_," Fox angrily bit out, abandoning his previous composure.

The man went on breezily, ignoring the spy completely. _"I expect you and K-Unit at the Bank in two weeks' time; I'm sure we'll have found him by then."_

Blunt hung up.

He _hung up_.

Ben stared at the cellphone in shock. Of all the _ridiculous-_

-denying putting in the microchip-

-letting them see Alex in _two weeks_-

Pretending-

_Manipulating-_

Fox looked at the rest of K-Unit, who had heard the entire conversation via speakerphone.

They gaped back at him.

Finally, Snake sighed. "That went better than I expected."

O-o-O-o-O

"I don't get it..." Snake murmured, twirling/spinning a pencil lightly between his fingertips. "Why? I know _what_ he's doing. I know _how_, but why? _What does he have to gain from all of this?"_

Motive.

One of the many questions that needed answering.

Eagle snorted. "Well, _I_ thought it was obvious."

"Do tell," Fox said dryly, when he made no move to explain.

The soldier clenched his jaw. "That's just it. There _is_ no logical reason. He's **_mental,_** **insane_. _**I mean, don't you get it? Blunt think's he's **'so smart,'** but he's just a **vicious manipulator- a vindictive, abusive tyrant. An unforgiving, ruthless apathetic," **Eagle ranted.** "A soul-sucking son of a bitch. An evil, arrogant, self-centered, harsh, crazy, bastardy sadistic _arsehole_**.

"I mean, if you think about it, we might not even be _real,_" he continued, completely oblivious (or perhaps not) to the confused- and worried- raised eyebrow Snake was giving to the other members. "Seriously. What if we're just part of this teen book series about 'Alex, the Teenager Spy,' _or_ we're only, like, in a couple chapters in the first book! Yeah! That's it- we're part of a _fanfiction_. **And like, the plot twist could be that Blunt's daughter was killed by Scorpia because she knew Alex and they thought she was his girlfriend! So Blunt's going all revenge-psycho on _Alex_, and-"**

Wolf nudged him, effectively shutting him up. "Occam's Razor, yeah?"

The soldier frowned, before his expression smoothed over, and he sighed. "Right."

They knew it was merely part of his personality- his way of relieving all the stress, thinking up the most obscure situations.

"Well, back to the original question," Fox directed the conversation to its -original- topic. "Cub is useful to Blunt. Especially when he first started out- his age gave him an advantage. Now, when the main criminal organizations have heard of him, Cub is useful because he's _vulnerable,_" he explained. "He's not _like_ the normal agents- and Blunt saw that. He knew he could take advantage of Cub's vulnerability- somehow getting Ian to sign over guardianship rights over to him... in all essences, he knew he could convince Cub that he owned him- which makes Cub a living weapon, one that he solely controls." Fox looked up, seeing the understanding in the rest of his unit. "It's been crucial to Blunt to make sure Cub follows orders- and once that happens, well, it wouldn't matter anymore- he could order to him to do _anything_."

And that was the crux of it.

Cub could become _anything_ Blunt wanted him to be- he wasn't subjected to merely a 'spy.'

A terrorist.

A rogue agent.

An assassin.

Blunt had foreign connections- he could, and _would_ lend him to other World Intelligence Agencies- selling him off to the highest bidder, mission by mission.

His entire life, controlled by strings- no freedom to be who he wanted.

"Cub would never surrender to something like that," Eagle breathed out.

Would he?

Was there any incentive to why he _wouldn't_ have? They had seen him around Blunt, especially recently- Cub, obeying his every word, submitting.

Would he surrender?

"Not willingly," Snake whispered.

Wolf closed his eyes.

_No._

Breaking.

Cub was breaking.

No- **_Blunt_** _was breaking him._

That was why-

Fox bit his lip. Having already thought through those scenarios, there was always a possibility-

"Cub is a dangerous weapon," the spy said quietly, before glancing up at them in horror. "And it wouldn't matter who controls him- or who pulls the trigger."

O-o-O-o-O

In your field of work, power corrupts; absolute power corrupts absolutely.

O-o-O-o-O

**Okay, I have another question for you guys (since you answered my other one with awesomeness)- can you give me a few characteristics you want/like of K-Unit? Not necessarily one that is seen commonly in other fanfics, and it can _definitely_ be a new one that hasn't been heard of before. Specifically Wolf and Eagle, actually. I think out of K-Unit, those two are the least-developed. BUT, I can't give any guarantees of using _all_ of them- I wouldn't want them to contradict or anything. So thanks in advance!**


	22. Molding the Mask

**Oh man, you guys were _so_ helpful- thanks _so_ much to Sagebrush, Ren O'neil, BooksLover2000, and all the other reviewers! I'll be able to develop Wolf and Eagle's characters a _lot_ more than I would have because of you guys! **

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**Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider.**

O-o-O-o-O

If they had thought two days was bad, _two goddamn **weeks**_ of not knowing what was happening to Cub... what they were doing to him.

A lot could happen in two weeks- and they had barely been able to keep him together during the five days he had spent with them.

But... they had to be patient. They _were_ soldiers, after all.

Wolf, as team leader, had waited for the news of his men- not necessarily in his unit- of surviving the war they all fought.

Fox, as a spy, had waited for the news if he would live another day- there had been too many times of his cover being nearly blown.

Eagle, as a sniper, had waited for the targets to get into position, knowing that hesitation would cost his life- but those last-minute seconds of waiting would extend the lives of _real people_.

Snake, as a field medic, had waited for the news of people living or dying- once his job was done, it was out of his hands.

So, they had waited- patiently, no, and _definitely_ with reluctance- but they had waited.

The atmosphere had grown increasingly tense- fights broke out faster and each party was quick to lash out, and the reaction-time for breaking them up, mainly by Snake, was getting slower and slower.

They had all debated on trying to go back to the Bank, but it was clear that MI6 wouldn't back down, and Cub would only suffer if they did.

One of the more 'peaceful' times, was when the soldiers worked their steam off in the home gym- it took their minds off of things, allowing them to focus on something other than the fact that Blunt was doing only god knows what to their unofficial member.

The days came and went- albeit slowly. Finally, it was time to go back to the Bank- to what extent the damage was to the broken boy... and if they could put him back together.

O-o-O-o-O

_Sixteen days, six hours, thirty-four minutes previously._

"Did he struggle?" Blunt asked the agent who had escorted the teen into his office, eyeing the fresh bruises and bloodied wrists with detached amusement.

"Yes, sir," the agent replied smoothly. "He put up one helluva fight- it took two agents just to calm him down."

Alex clenched his jaw, glaring rebelliously at the floor.

He_ hadn't_\- the agent was lying and Blunt perfectly well knew that.

He hadn't struggled when they had put those damned cuffs on, leaving him completely vulnerable and helpless to the beating that followed. Nonetheless, he was grateful when they avoided his still-healing ribcage and shoulder- indicating a warning that the higher-ups wanted him 'undamaged' as they liked to put it. Blunt never had, and never _would_ care about his health- only how much an inconvenience it would be to him if he were injured.

He had _resisted_ the urge to break the nose of an agent who had been certainly close enough to do so.

It made him sick just thinking about it- but he'd had _orders,_ dammit! Orders he _knew_ he had to follow- Blunt's orders.

Blunt examined the boy for a moment, before signaling the agent forward.

Alex tensed, waiting for a blow, blinking in surprise when he felt the handcuffs click open.

"Dismissed."

The agent nodded curtly, before leaving the room.

Alex knew better than to massage his raw wrists, or relieve his screaming shoulders- the man sitting before him preyed on any weaknesses shown.

Instead, he stood stiffly- arms by his sides, head bowed respectively- _waiting._

Waiting for- dreading, actually- the orders of another mission- which would most likely turn out to be a series of back-to-back missions. It was because of his defiance, he knew. It had only taken him a month to crumble last time- had it really only been a week ago?

"Your next assignment will be in approximately two weeks' time. You will receive further details later."

Alex didn't sigh in relief- Blunt wasn't known for 'keeping his promises'- he could easily bump the date up to anytime he wanted, and catch him off guard. Besides, two weeks at the Bank didn't mean Blunt would allow him to properly recover.

Blunt continued. "Until then, you will undertake any training I see fit- you will obey the orders of anyone who is in charge of you." The harsh tone offered no room for arguing. "Failure to comply will result in... _unpleasant_ consequences. Is this understood?"

"Yes, sir," Alex answered quietly.

"Once the two weeks have ended, and you have properly healed, you will begin regularly scheduled missions, with a fifteen-hour rest period between each assignment."

Well. That was unexpected- if it was actually true. But... fifteen hours? He could live with that.

He could, and _would_ survive.

What about-

"As for K-Unit..." Blunt's features were impassive and emotionless as ever. "You will no longer live with them- temporary or otherwise; visits will be infrequent and, of course, the decision is entirely up to me," the dry voice drawled on. "Your missions and well-being will be reflected on your behavior. Is this understood?"

"Yes, sir," the boy replied automatically.

There was a moment of silence as the Director of MI6 methodically studied his agent- eyes missing nothing.

"Dismissed."

The spy inclined his head, moving to leave; he hovered near the door, hesitating, hand fluttering over the doorknob.

"Go to your room," Blunt ordered forcibly.

He left.

O-o-O-o-O

Alex made his way through the seemingly endless corridors before reaching the familiar door.

He had been mildly surprised and pleased when there hadn't been an agent waiting outside the office, ready to pounce and drag him out in cuffs.

The teen paused, a frown played upon his expression.

They had removed- no, _changed_ the locks.

Instead of a heavy deadbolt, a shiny silver metal device fit snugly into the door- one near his head, and an identical one near the floor. A quick examination showed that it was present on both sides.

An automatic lock- or even a lock controlled by remote.

Alex bit his lip, not wanting to lock himself in his room.

Except he didn't want to risk getting into trouble with Blunt.

In the end, the teen allowed the door to close behind him- his suspicions confirmed when a soft click indicated a lock being engaged.

Well, if Blunt hadn't been lying, he had another two weeks before his next mission.

Alex quickly went to work, disinfecting the minor scrapes and applying salve and bandages to his damaged wrists. Thankfully, he hadn't received a concussion; the other bruises were minor and would heal relatively quickly.

Once done, he collapsed into the small cot- only to be rudely awoken less than twenty minutes later.

O-o-O-o-O

"Get up," a voice hissed in his ear.

The boy's eyes shot open, and he rolled quickly to his feet.

A pair of gym shorts, a t-shirt, and combat boots were thrust in his arms.

"Get changed. You have two minutes."

Alex blinked as the door opened, and the man let himself out, flipping the light-switch on as he left.

The teen made quick work of getting dressed, briefly stopping in the bathroom before meeting the man outside.

The agent snapped his fingers, hardly glancing at the boy as he led him through the halls.

Alex didn't recognize where they were going- only that they were moving deeper underground, to levels he hadn't known existed.

His heart sank when he realized that they were in an extremely well-stocked gym.

What followed was three hours of a high-intensity and exhausting PT session.

And then another three hours of hand-to-hand combat, taught by a different person.

They were intentionally wearing him down, he contemplated during an agonizingly long run on a treadmill. They were breaking him- making him more pliable to become what they wanted.

Meals were infrequent, and sleep even less.

With the exhausting PT and other session, they were succeeding in running him to the ground.

The men and women that were 'training' him were cold, hard, and unreadable.

The spy had learned long ago to obey orders immediately and without question.

His instructors demanded respect, obedience, and submission.

They gave no reasons or explanations- they gave nothing, actually.

As the days passed by, he could feel his concentrating slipping away. The different instructors- their faces, anyway- blurred together.

It wasn't all PT, though- from languages and weapons' training, to disguises and learning how to cover/hid his emotions- or getting rid of them completely.

_("Pay attention," the woman snapped. "Repeat the exercises- remember, you are not_ **hiding** _your emotions, you are_ **controlling**_ them, and then removing them completely. Do not _**build**_ a mask. Become one."_)

The training was intentionally confusing, and random- there was no 'schedule.' No patterns. No ways of mentally and physically preparing himself- he was completely at their mercy.

And so he complied.

He obeyed.

He submitted- to them, to Blunt.

Alex knew he was drifting- that he was losing something important. Except he was finding that he couldn't bring himself to care- really, if emotions only caused him pain, why did he need them at all?

It wasn't like previous times when he had built a strong layer or armor on top of masks and more armor. No, he wasn't making that shell- he was melding into it, becoming it- which was exactly what they wanted of him.

He let go of that previous identity- disassociating from it completely- all the attachments, all the emotions and-and letting go of the _pain._

And, in the only way the spy could, he finally felt a sense of peace.

O-o-O-o-O

The first thing Fox had noticed about Cub when they entered the room, was that he was _tired_. Dark smudges rimmed bloodshot eyes- the teenager was practically _radiating _exhaustion. Ben was surprised he was standing _upright_ from the heaviness in the air around him.

The second, was that he was _composed_. Perfect posture- standing straight, arms at his sides, face an emotionless mask.

Ben was worried when it took a moment too long before he saw a flicker of recognition flashed through those eyes.

K-Unit was at his side in seconds- immediately becoming protective, especially in the presence of the hostile agents that hovered in the edges of the (rather large) room.

"Jesus, kid- the hell they do to you?" Wolf hadn't liked his response, or lack thereof.

Snake frowned, doing a brief look-over of the boy. No apparent injuries to speak of- yet.

The teen backed away from them, glancing to the doorway- where a familiar grey man stood.

"Get away from my agent."

Eagle curled his lip at the voice. "We waited two weeks," he shot back. "Just like you said."

Alan Blunt raised an eyebrow, the only indication of having heard him. Grey eyes dragged over to the young spy- before he clicked his tongue.

The boy immediately scampered to his side.

"It's alright, Cub," Ben coaxed softly. "We're here now, it's going to be OK."

Alex sent Blunt another questioning look- almost... was that confusion?

"The human psych is such a fascinating thing," he murmured. "From human, to spy, to dog. After that, well, anything is an improvement, isn't it?"

O-o-O-o-O

Spies mold into anything the situation demands- but it is rarely free will, and your job is to adapt into anything they wish. And, eventually, they will succeed in forcing you to become that person, not merely an illusion of one.

O-o-O-o-O

**Eh- yeah. Let's just say there's going to be a lot of angst next chapter... prepare yourself.**


	23. Checkmate

**God, this chapter felt rushed. And badly written- but at 5.2K, it's the longest yet. I apologize in advance.**

**FYI: Due to summer plans, Internet will be sketchy to nonexistent over the next two weeks. Estimated time for the next update is aprox. three weeks.**

**You are going to absolutely _hate_ me after this chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider.**

O-o-O-o-O

Last_ time:_

_"The human psych is such a fascinating thing," he murmured. "From human, to spy, to dog. After that, well, anything is an improvement, isn't it?"_

O-o-O-o-O

Wolf clenched his fists, ready to snap into action. Beside him, the other soldiers mimed him- ready.

Ben remained composed- he knew how important it was. "What are you talking about?" he asked cautiously.

"We should go somewhere more private," Alan Blunt said as he led K-Unit out of the room, leaving Alex with the other agents.

"There will be four tests- of how loyal you are to Alex, and vice-versa. Each test will be specifically targeted at one member."

"What kind of tests?" Snake asked.

Blunt didn't respond, turning to the sniper. "Starting with Rodney, or Eagle, if you prefer."

K-Unit were beginning to feel uneasy. Something about all of this was unsettling.

"Upon entering this room, you will notice a variety of food," he continued. "It is in your best interest, and Alex's health, that you do not let him eat it- it is heavily sedated, and deadly if he falls asleep. You are not to physically hold him back; however, I have provided some assistance. And lastly, you cannot tell him it is poisoned.

"If you do not comply at all, Alex _will_ suffer, and I will further limit him seeing you. After all is well and done, I will give Alex a choice of staying with you further."

The soldiers glanced at one another, uncertain.

Blunt had always bent the rules he had made- never playing fair- but he _did_ seem to stick to the main concepts of his 'game.' Still, he had yet to win- they always managed to bring Cub back, despite his advantage of power and control.

"Fine," Eagle bit out. "I'll do it."

Fox narrowed his eyes. "Why only Eagle?"

Lips twitched. "Patience- wait your turn."

Before they had time to fully absorb that answer, the door swung open once more, revealing-

They blinked.

Whoa.

There was a _lot_ of food.

Two large tables lined the walls of one wall, filled with a variety of cuisines and delicacies- spanning different cultures as well. European, Asian, American- it didn't matter.

Alex hardly gave them a second glance, eyes fixed intently at the tables.

Wolf frowned as an agent approached the teen, one of them holding a strip of pliable high-tech metal .

"What are you- ?" his eyes widened.

The boy grimaced as the metal clicked around his neck; the agent stepped back- not before tossing Eagle a small black device.

Fox swore angrily.

"Take it off," Snake hissed. "Now."

The agent ignored them- looking back at Cub and the shock collar with detached amusement.

And then it clicked into place.

_"You are not to physically hold him back; however, I have provided some assistance."_

Eagle curled his lip. "There's no way I would use that _thing_ on Cub." The remark was pointed toward Blunt, yet fell on deaf ears as the man walked closer to Cub.

Fox stepped forward- only to be stopped by two agents that barred his way. The spy held his hands in a placating gesture, and the agents backed off.

This was bad- even if the four soldiers were able to take down the army MI6 had for a security team, there was no guarantee they could keep Cub safe through the midst of the chaos. Force wasn't an option.

"Alex,"

The boy's head snapped up, immediately stiffening- awaiting orders.

"Go eat anything you want from the table."

K-Unit saw the primitive instincts taking over- the barely contained eager for food. _Hell,_ when had he last eaten?

"Don't do it, Cub," Eagle warned, even as the teenager went over to the tables, eyes hungrily taking it all in.

He stopped, frowning at them; confusion etched his features.

Eagle saw the question before he asked. "Please, Cub, trust me. You-" _can't eat that food._ Even if Blunt was lying, it wasn't worth risking it. Heedful of the warning, he forged on. "-you can't eat it. Later, OK? We'll get food later."

The teen looked back at Blunt, for confirmation.

Blunt nodded. "Go ahead, Alex."

Cub faced the soldier, eyes pleading with him- goddammit, he was _starving._ And he- he thought Eagle was _disallowing_ him from eating, just like- like the others before him.

He was trying not to eat, waiting for permission.

_Their_ permission.

Eagle was about to assure him that they would get him food, he just needed to _wait._

The boy's eyes dropped to the device in his hand; fearfully, he cowered. "Don't- _please_. I won't-" Fingers grasped at the metallic collar.

Mouth dry, hands clenched into fists. "I wouldn't ever do that to you, Cub."

The spy - searched him for sincerity; hesitation, then- he bolted for the table.

_"Shit."_ Eagle rushed forward. "Don't eat it, Cub, please."

The teen wasn't even listening. He hastily shoving a roll in his mouth, pausing only briefly to chew and swallow- before he was shoveling more food into his mouth.

Cub growled as K-Unit rushed forward, hands protectively going to the food he had already claimed.

Jaws clenched, they could only watch in horror as... nothing happened.

Snake bit his lip. If it was a poison that acted as a sedative- or perhaps a large dose, it wouldn't take long before it would come into effect.

Still... it wasn't a guarantee that the food had actually been poisoned.

Cub completely ignored their pleas, and was still trying to cram as much food in as possible. It didn't take long before he started slowing down- but not slow enough, as the boy threw it up only moments later.

The medic winced. Surely Cub knew that he should have eaten slower? Except... he seemed to be in a primitive mindset at the moment- survival first, health later. It worried Snake even further- what exactly had MI6 done to make him this way? They'd had two weeks... certainly enough time to perform this form of brainwashing- stripping him of his identity, detaching him from his previous memories and experiences, even making him almost completely emotionless. Yet... soldier sensed Cub would still react to pain- albeit not in the same way a normal human would. His reactions would be less human, and more animalistic. Blunt had found a way to control him with pain and fear. And the best way to do that, was by getting rid of his emotions altogether- molding him into the spy they wanted him to be: completely and totally obedient to MI6, owned by intelligence, and property of Blunt.

_So what was the point in all of this?_

Cub gazed at the food, then back at Eagle- no, the black box he held.

Just when they thought he was going to scarf more food down, his eyes glossed over, and the teen swayed on his food, before collapsing in a crumpled heap on the floor.

Snake quickly knelt down next to him, wary of the agents that would pull him back if did so much as_ trying_ to keep him awake. "I'm just checking his pulse," he explained calmly, hiding his fear.

Cautiously, he held the thin wrist in one hand- _dammit,_ his heart was beating insanely fast. Which only meant... Blunt hadn't been bluffing- the food had been poisoned, and it was already taking effect. He had been half-hoping that the poison had been expelled when Cub had vomited... but no such luck.

"Cub, can you hear me?" he began urgently. "Kid, you need to stay awake, OK?"

The boy didn't respond, already beginning to lose consciousness.

"Give us the antidote- now," Wolf growled at the grey man.

"I already told you," his dry voice continued patronizingly. "If you keep him awake, he'll be fine; he only needs to be awake for a half-hour or so."

Fox bent down to shake him awake, tensing when two sets of hands forced him back. He could've taken the agents down- not easily, but not without too much difficulty... but he didn't- for Cub. Blunt would punish him because of them; he could, and would make him suffer.

"_Eagle!_" Snake snapped, turning sharply to him.

The soldier took a step back, horror in his eyes. "No! I'm not using that-that _thing_ on him."

"It's fine," Wolf said grimly. "I'll do it." He reluctantly took it from Eagle, before pushed the single button on it.

And-

Nothing happened.

_"Shit,"_ Fox swore under his breath. "It's already been programmed to your fingerprints, Eagle- it'll only work if you do it."

Eagle set his jaw. "I told him _five minutes ago_ that I wouldn't _ever_ use it on him."

"He's going to _die,_ if you don't do it," Snake reminded him harshly.

Eagle swallowed, staring hard at the black device Wolf had wordlessly handed back to him. "I'm so sorry, Cub," he whispered.

He pressed it-

The response was immediate... and heartbreaking.

Alex jerked awake, face contorted in pain; his eyes shot open, seeking the person responsible for the _living **fire**_ that was coursing through his body, for the waves of pain that was being emitted by that dreaded shock collar- which he had quickly learned was worse, _far_ worse than handcuffs or tasers ever were.

"What are you-" he panted, trying to catch his breath as it finally stopped. He looked in confusion at the soldier standing next to him. "Eagle? You- you said you _wouldn't._"

The soldier didn't meet his eyes. "Just stay awake, kid, OK?"

Eagle_ hated_ doing that to him, hated _himself_ because he had to in order to keep Alex _alive_. The confusion that flitted on his face had been familiar- when Eagle had ordered him not to eat, even though it was obvious he had been starved.

But now... the confusion was gone, replaced by... _betrayal._

Goddammit, that_ hurt._ Eagle was as loyal as they came, but now-

Cub didn't trust him.

Couldn't trust him- not now, not ever.

The hurt, the pain, the betrayal- it all flashed through those world-weary eyes so quickly, before it too, was wiped away.

"Go to sleep, Alex," Blunt said silkily. "I don't know _why_ K-Unit is doing this to you, but you certainly deserve rest... I'm sure you could use it."

"You were poisoned, " Snake explained, going against Blunt's direct orders. "You have to stay awake, alright?"

Cub blinked, looking from one to another- family or training.

Family or training.

The people he trusted (or used to, anyway) had told him to stay awake.

Blunt had said he could get asleep- _god,_ he was so tired.

But... hadn't that trust just been broken? Or partially, anyway- they told him not to eat.

MI6 agents had done the same- were they any different...?

_(No.)_

Slowly, the drug took over once more, and his eyes drooped closed.

His eyes shot open several seconds later, gasping in pain as the electricity jolted him awake again.

The spy glared at Eagle, before curling on his side, almost defensively.

It then became a seemingly endless cycle of him fighting to stay awake... and losing, only to be shocked if he closed his eyes for over ten seconds.

Roughly a half hour later, he was finally allowed to drift off.

O-o-O-o-O

Wearily, Eagle put down that horrible black metal box. "Are you happy now?" he asked bitterly, mouth set in a grim line.

Blunt ignored him, studying the exhausted teen.

Already, people were coming to take the food away.

Fox's curiously- and dread- piqued when he saw a cot, identical to the one in Cub's room, being brought in by several agents.

"No, I believe it is your turn, Snake. Shall we begin?"

O-o-O-o-O

The boy shied away as strong arms pulled him to his feet, he willed the tiredness to leave him; it took a bit more effort than usual.

"Wolf?" he looked at the other soldier. "Fox?"

They both ignored him, continuing to lead him to-

His bed.

Snake was nearby, and Eagle- well, Alex didn't spare_ him_ a second glance.

But instead of setting him gently on the cot, and telling him to rest, they forced him to lay on his stomach and-

His eyes widened when he saw the glint of handcuffs.

Alex immediately lashed out, struggling against the hands that_ (too)_ easily held him down.

He would've been compliant if it were MI6 agents, but this was _K-Unit._

They were supposed to _protect_ him.

And here they were, _hurting_ him.

He couldn't help feeling a sense of familiarity as K-Unit jerked his arms over his head, cuffing them to the railing of the cot.

It was- _god, **no,**_ he didn't want to remember_ that._

_O-o-O-o-O_

_He was still struggling (it was useless- **damn** those tasers), even as rough hands pulled him up, forcing him back in the cot on his stomach, damaged shoulder screaming agony as his arms were locked above him, handcuffed to the bar that acted as a bedstead._

_The teen twisted about, eyes widening when he saw another person enter the room, holding a tray of medical supplies. "No! **Please**, I-"_

_Someone brought out a gag, and the boy was silenced, glaring as it tightened around his mouth._

_He had an inkling of what they were going to do- but he couldn't be sure._

_**Danger!** His instincts screamed at him. **Threat!**_

_The agents held him down as his shirt was torn off of him, and the Evil MI6 Agent came closer, and he saw the contents of the tray, it-it had-_

_Antiseptic._

_A scalpel._

_Bandages._

_Needle._

_Thread._

_He took in a shuddering breath-_

_A small pair of pliers._

_And-and he knew he wouldn't see it, but- a small chip, the size of a grain of rice._

_The kind of chips used on cats and dogs, except it didn't just have information on a scanner- it was..._

_A tracker._

_Because they weren't trying to take anything **out.**_

_They were putting something **in**, and they would specifically choose a place where it would be nearly impossible to find, or retrieve- and definitely not something he could take out himself (and they **knew** he didn't have anyone to take it out, let alone someone he actually **trusted**)._

_It wouldn't be hard- scalpels would easily make the cut, and needle-like pliers could insert things deep- he wouldn't ever find it._

_The simple tracker would easily fix MI6's runaway spy- it was the end of his freedom, the end of any chance of him **ever** being free of MI6._

_MI6 could, and **would **track his every move, and-and it was only another way for him to prove and confirm that they **owned** him. Blunt had already told him multiple times that Alex was their property, but inserting a chip like **that**, like he was some sort of **animal**, or **machine** that was used by MI6..._

_The worst thing was, it wouldn't even hurt that much- not painfully, anyway. It was ironic, really. His back had sustained far worse things, but this chip would leave the deepest scar, that he was-_

_Alex's breaths quickened, hyperventilating as the EMA bent over him with a scalpel._

_The boy tensed, flinching as the blade cut two lines on his right shoulder, criss-cross._

_He grew more frenzied, wild when the EMA switched out the scalpel for the pliers, his back arching away from the device that held the tracker; the spy heaved, trying his last desperate **(useless)** chance for freedom- but it was useless._

_O-o-O-o-O_

The teen began to hyperventilate- Wolf and Fox holding him down, Eagle hovering nearby, Snake moving towards him with a scalpel.

He flinched when Eagle bent over him, the knife in his hand barely brushing his back as his shirt was sliced off.

Turning his head to the side, Alex could make out the X on the back of his shoulder.

They _wouldn't-_

They weren't putting anything in, he tried to convince himself... right?

_O-o-O-o-O_

_"You are going to wake up Alex, and bring him to the bed," Blunt began in a dull voice. "You will lay him on his stomach, and cuff his arms over his head, to the rail._

_"You will hold him down- Eagle will cut off his shirt, and Snake will remove the microchip fro his shoulder, and replace it with this." He gestured to a tray of medical supplies, and K-Unit could see a small container that held a microchip._

_"I am** not** a microsurgeon," Snake practically seethed. "I am not qualified for this- you need a **professional- **not a field medic."_

_Blunt turned a bored expression to the medic. "As you wish." His lips twitched, and he nodded to the agent beside him. "He will do it if you refuse to cooperate."_

_They all recognized the agent- the lead agent, responsible for making Cub's life a the Bank living hell for nearly an entire year. The man had more than willingly obliged to Blunt's requests of beating the teen up, treating him like a criminal- or worse- and, above all, instilling a sense of fear and distrust of agents and the intelligence agency itself. Cub feared him- they knew. They would never be able to forget the nightmares would awake, terrified- reliving the horrors he had endured here, including the day MI6 had put a chip in him._

_Snake had a mental image of the lead agent eagerly gorging into Cub's shoulder, as the nightmare happened again- except, this time, they would be on the sidelines- helpless to do anything. Or worse, they would be **holding him down**, watching as Cub became confused as they were helping MI6, and hurting him._

_They couldn't let that happen._

_But... if Snake agreed to help with the 'surgery'... would that be worse?_

_Definitely not- Cub's health was the most important factor, physically and mentally. Even if they were in the same room as him... it still wouldn't be good._

_"Fine," Snake bit out, glancing once more at the broken boy. "I'll do it."_

_O-o-O-o-O_

As Cub writhed in the arms of K-Unit, he... wasn't understanding.

_Didn't_ understand.

Why would they hurt him like this?

They were his friends, his-his _family_\- the only one he had _left._

It was ironic- just weeks previously, it had been _Snake_ to wake him up, as he had been having a nightmare about this very same event- same _memory_. And now... _they_ were the enemy-_ they_ were the ones doing it to him.

They had acted like they wanted to help him get away from MI6- and now, here they were, with the enemy.

"Be still, Alex,"

The boy froze at the harsh voice- one that he recognized all-too well.

He stilled immediately.

Blunt was a few meters away, an observer- but a powerful one.

The spy tensed when the scalpel slit open his skin, directly over the previous scar.

Again, he made no move when the pliers dug into his shoulder; he hissed in pain as the metal felt for the microchip.

Perception broke out on his forehead, but Snake remained calm. It was like removing a bullet, only smaller. He could do this. But if he failed- Blunt would set his own agent, too eager and inexperienced, on Cub- who would take pleasure in hurting him.

No, he was the one that _needed_ to do this.

The soldiers had pointedly ignored Alex completely- under strict orders, of course- they all _wanted_ to reassure him- and Cub _needed_ that reassurance.

They wanted to_ protect_ him... but they hadn't been allowed.

No explanations.

No comfort.

Blunt was_ forcing_ K-Unit to abandon him... and was turning them against Cub.

Snake hadn't liked how Cub had obeyed instantly when blunt had ordered him to stop struggling- it wasn't _natural_, it wasn't even _human._

The medic concentrated, hard, on finding the microchip- he hadn't even see an X-ray, and had only examined the scar previously.

The microchip had been proved dangerously close to the caracoid process, and it was a miracle he hadn't damaged Cub's shoulder permanently.

Thankfully, it was only bleeding minimally- easy to bandage once he was done, but it must've been - for Cub.

Finally, his pliers touched against something hard; he was able to clamp them around the microchip, and take it out.

"You- you're done?" Alex gasped out. "You took it out?"

Snake hated himself in that moment- seeing the boy's relief, his faint hope- god, how on _earth_ had Cub managed to live with that _thing_ in him, knowing that MI6- and Blunt- held so much _control_ over him?

The medic didn't answer, hand already reaching for the 'updated' microchip.

"What are you-" his eyes widened when he realized what was happening... a second time.

Cub growled, straining against the arms that held him down- even as Snake held the pliers carefully to his skin.

Snake grit his teeth as he pushed the microchip back in- he didn't do it as deep as the person before him had, and it was definitely easier than taking it out, but still...

He continued working- quickly and methodically, applying stitches after cleaning the wound with an antiseptic salve, before placing gauze over it. But even if the physical wound healed quickly- the scars wouldn't.

Having your closest friends _torture_ you... that memory wouldn't leave.

As soon as he was done, Snake and the other soldiers stepped neatly back, glaring at Blunt.

There was a moment of silence- Cub, still panting hard from trying to get away from the microchip, while Blunt examined him closely.

"Sit up," he ordered sharply.

The boy moved to obey, but his movements were slow due to the restricts of the handcuffs.

Too slow for the lead agent, and his patience wore thin; he jerked the teen up, twisting him around.

Cub's breaths hitched, pain etching his features while the agent smirked in satisfaction.

It wasn't the first time K-Unit had wanted to kill him- or Blunt, for that matter.

"You disobeyed my orders."

Alex looked down.

Wolf's knuckles whitened where they were clenched into fists. _His orders_\- for Cub not to struggle while they tore into his back.

"You _will_ be punished, or course," Blunt went on easily. "A punishment to fit the crime, don't you think? You felt that you lacked control- and you have none, really- and it _is_ a rather bad habit," he mused to himself, almost cryptically. "I believe Agent Daniels could easily break that for you."

Ben's head snapped up. What the _hell_ was he talking about?

The Director of MI6 merely gestured to a chair on the far side of the room.

Cub bit his lip, not resisting when the lead agent unclipped the cuffs, before depositing him into the chair; he felt his arms being wrenched behind his back, the the handcuffs' lock reengaged.

K-Unit was slightly confused- what did Blunt want for them to do now?

"Three minutes, thirty seconds- that's all I ask of you," Blunt murmured to Fox, out of Cub's hearing range. "If you do not do it, I will have another agent do double that."

Ben frowned, not understanding, when-

He was thrown a cloth, and he was suddenly in front of Alex.

Cub didn't meet his gaze, beginning to hyperventilate.

Hyperventilate? Why- ?

And then he understood.

Pure shock.

A hose, with water already spouting from it, was thrust in his hands.

There were different methods, of course- and the CIA had a reputation for the torture.

But... it had happened to Cub before- that much was obvious.

Waterboarding.

Blunt wanted him to _waterboard_ Cub.

For thirty seconds longer than the average person could go without breathing.

He had started hyperventilating, because he was preparing himself- he knew that it would increase the air in his lungs, making him able to withstand.

But... if he didn't- he would drown.

There was raw fear in Cub's eyes as he moved forward with the cloth and hose in hand- there was no way to cheat, people were watching, and if he were caught, Alex would die- because of him.

Wolf had also been ordered to help- to hold him down.

Cub's head was tilted back, his jaw forced open.

Fox spread the cloth over his mouth and nose, and put the flowing stream over it.

O-o-O-o-O

Alex started hyperventilating as Fox drew closer- he knew what was going to happen, knew he would be helpless to stop it.

But... this was _Ben_.

Why would he-

There wasn't any time to think about that, as he took a deep breath before Fox fitted the cloth over, and water gushed in.

It was obvious, by the familiar way Ben did it, that he had done it before- had interrogated people before.

Had tortured them.

And here he was, doing it to _him_.

The water sputtered over, flowing into his stomach. He knew that if he attempted to breath in, he would only get water in his lungs, and he would drown quickly afterward.

His longest record was three minutes, sixteen seconds. Blunt knew that- he'd been there when the agents had tested him on it.

It had already been nearly two minutes, and his lungs were beginning to burn.

He had tried not to struggle- it only wasted precious oxygen, he couldn't afford that.

Still... the real question was how long Ben would do it.

Three minutes.

He didn't like how steady Fox's hand was- how practiced. He didn't like how Wolf was holding him down again, easily- again.

Three minutes, fifteen seconds.

He was at his breaking point, he knew- and Fox still hadn't let up. Blunt would let him be killed... right?

It was three minutes, eighteen seconds, when the first drops of water entered his lungs.

He gasped for breath, only receiving the cold water in his lungs. Desperately, the teen thrashed about, but was undeterred.

Cub continued choking down the water, and panicking- his eyes were wide, and he, again, tried to pull away- but Fox... his mouth was set in a grim line, unrelenting.

The spy was unaware he had been released, when it had hit three minutes, thirty seconds. Alex gasped for air, choking; he tried doubling over, but the handcuffs disallowed the movement.

For the next several minutes, he was vomiting up water, and coughing.

After five minutes, he had settled down; Cub growled at any of the soldiers that got too close, sending them hurt and betrayed looks.

He didn't understand _why_.

_Why were they doing this to him?_

O-o-O-o-O

Blunt turned to the lead agent. "You know what to do next."

The agent smiled grimly, and nodded.

K-Unit watched in dismay as he led the boy to the center of the room, where he was cuffed to the floor, arms behind him and handcuffs connected to a metal ring.

It was all-too familiar.

The soldiers hadn't been present when Blunt had set his agents on Cub, to 'teach him his place,' but now...

O-o-O-o-O

Cub scrambled backward as Wolf came towards him.

He knew what would happen next- it had happened before- but this was _Wolf_.

Surely he wouldn't- ?

The teen flinched back as Wolf struck him across the jaw- it would leave a bruise.

Wolf was a soldier- he knew how to fight. He knew the best places to cause pain in hand-to-hand combat... and Blunt knew he knew.

It was awful to obey that order- for Blunt to list a specific set of places to injure, and for him to follow through- and know that if it wasn't satisfactory, the lead agent would all-too willingly take his place.

He was brutal, and unrelenting- Cub didn't have time to prepare himself for the next hit.

The boy was helpless- chained down, at the mercy of... _him_.

O-o-O-o-O

Cub was overwhelmed- with the pain, the shock of betrayal, and his emotions- the ones he had been taught to _get rid of_.

Everything was happening so _fast_\- and-and everything K-Unit was _doing_ to him.

He couldn't keep up- he was so tired from the previous two weeks, and _this_, K-Unit _torturing_ him, and those pent-up emotions that he wanted to _go away_.

And- the _pain._

All of the pain.

He was being _overwhelmed_.

He couldn't do this anymore.

He wanted to _let go_.

To forget.

He didn't want to remember this- didn't want to be this person.

He _hated_ this.

Couldn't experience this horrible life- if it could be called living.

This fight for survival... he was so _tired_ of it all.

So he did- he... let go.

He withdrew, deep within his own mind- where he couldn't feel the pain.

O-o-O-o-O

Wolf glanced worriedly at the teenager.

He could survive this day- it was a harsh beating, yes, but it wasn't life-threatening.

But... something was off.

One moment, Cub was curled up as best he could, accepting the punishment- when he had stiffened.

As far as he could see, he wasn't unconscious.

It was like he had-

Wolf drew a fist back, but something stopped him.

Something was wrong.

"Cub?"

Blunt had warned him not to talk to him, but he didn't care- not now, when Cub was acting odd.

"Who is 'Cub?'" Alex asked in clipped, mechanical tone.

Wolf looked back at K-Unit- who looked puzzled as well.

"You may stop, Wolf." Blunt observed the boy, his eyes never leaving him. "Unlock the cuffs."

The agent did as he was told.

"Your name is Alex," the grey man stated, confusing the soldiers even more. "You obey me."

"Yes, sir," the boy continued in that same odd tone.

"Stand up," Blunt ordered.

Alex stood, showing no signs of pain or fatigue.

Fox frowned. This was different than the brainwashed Alex- this was... how to put it? Had he merely dropped his emotions again? But it didn't seem like that...

"Do you know who these men are?" the grey man asked, gesturing to K-Unit.

Alex looked at them. "No, sir."

"Attack them."

Without warning, he lashed out at Wolf, who was nearest.

Although he was caught by surprise, it was more confusion than anything- of Alex apparently losing his memory. However, he easily subdued the teen, being careful not to hurt him. "Hey, taking it easy- it's just Wolf, remember?" It seemed similar to what happened at the safehouse- or, Alex's old house. But... was it the same? Would it take Alex long to break him out of this?

"Be still."

At the order, Alex stopped.

"It's perfect," Blunt murmured. Then, turning to K-Unit: "I have you to thank, it wouldn't have been possible without your help."

Snake clenched his jaw. The _nerve_.

"As promised- Alex, would you like to go with K-Unit?"

"No, sir."

"What?!" Eagle exclaimed. "You can't just-"

"You can't do this," Wolf said firmly. "You said you would give _Alex_ a choice, not some brainwashed version!"

Their protests seemed to go unheard, as Blunt seemed fixated on the teen. He turned to K-Unit. "You have no use for me, now. Agent Daniels, report immediately to Mrs. Jones- she will brief you on your next mission. Wolf, you are being reassigned as an instructor for the U.S. Rangers, and will be a liaison between the SAS and the U.S Army, effective immediately; you report to Fort Carson at 1600 tomorrow. Snake, congratulations, the Army has finally realized your potential and is now sending you for advanced medical training- further details will be sent to you at a later date. Eagle, you have been reassigned as a marksman instructor for the Marine Corps, effective immediately; you report to Paris Island at 1800 tomorrow. As for you, Alex..."

O-o-O-o-O

Get used to losing. You know you will- they control you; always have, and always will. Once you're in the game, there's no way out.

O-o-O-o-O

**You know what the hardest part of writing this chapter was? Hurting Alex through K-Unit. Well, anyways, i****t'd be awesome if you dropped a review by!**


	24. Aftermath I-III: Misc

**Dammit- it's been waaaaaaaay too long- almost nine weeks. I have plenty of excuses to give you (basic summer stuff)- but I think you would rather just read this. Well, my average is one chapter per two weeks- which means I owe you four chapters. Don't worry- I gave you five. Keep the change.**

**Oh, and we recently broke 200 reviews! I have each and every one of you to thank- whether by reading it, following, favoriting, or reviewing, you guys all have been awesome support!**

**You know the drill:**

**Guest/NonPM RRs- Profile  
Signed RRs- PM box**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider**

* * *

_I. Mrs. Jones_

* * *

As soon as Ben Daniels left her office, Tulip Jones fought the temptation to sigh.

Dealing with the consequences- or guilt- of using Alex never seemed to end. She knew her troubles would only multiply a hundredfold if word got out MI6 were using a teenager- the mere knowledge that they had used blackmail alone would enough to completely ruin MI6.

Which was why, for one, it was a such a relief that few people seemed to know about it- or that no one cared at all.

And, of course, the five people who _did _care were the _SAS soldiers _that Alex had trained with all those years ago, not to mention one of her own agents. It wasn't like there weren't _other _people Alex had come into contact with- even the CIA, or the ASIS.

But no, it _had _to be people from her government.

Really, though, Blunt had said that it would only work to their advantage if they were the ones who ultimately gave K-Unit their orders.

She didn't even _try_ to convince herself that she wasn't one to blame for Alex's 'experience' with MI6. The corruption, the blackmail- it was all worth it in the end- having an agent who was off the books, off the record completely, not to mention trained and young- it was the perfect set-up. The new Prime Minister turned a blind eye as long as Blunt gave him results- no matter the method and means of getting them, and as long as the public stayed ignorant, the media silent.

And the blackmail had begun- never stopped, really, even if it _was _hidden behind carefully-concealed, pretty-packages of, "You know you don't want to refuse this mission, Alex. _Y__ou _of all people should know what is at stake- not to mention, of course, that you don't have a _choice_ in the matter. Remember who your guardians are, remember that _we_ have all the control- all the power. _We own you._" And Alex would fight back, tooth and nail, before Blunt would beat him back into submission, the teenager cracking _(breaking) _under the pressure. It was a horribly predictable pattern- one that she had seen far too much in the past year.

One of Blunt's fears were that they would lose him- especially when he would still be of use to them. Whether going insane, rogue, or even growing a resistance to their mistreatment of him, and downright refusal- or worse, being manipulated against them by someone else. Yes, Blunt had been worried- about losing blackmail material, or it getting to a point that Alex didn't _care _anymore.

He had grown hungry- always wanting _more_, more control over Alex, utter _dominance_ over him.

Alex had been doomed into this life the moment his parents had died- whether it be by choice, or not.

And Mrs. Jones knew that when she had been promoted to this position- not, even being a _part _of this line of work, she would be signing death warrants- but she didn't think it would have been the slow and torturous death of forcing a young teen into a world he didn't belong.

* * *

_II. Alan Blunt_

* * *

It was perfect- so perfect. Everything had fallen into place just as predicted. Blunt had calculated the odds, of course, the slight chance things going wrong- but the statistics had always been in his favor. But really, it could have easily fallen because of one slip-up, one opportunity that he hadn't meant to give Alex.

So far, everything was going as planned. Everything _had_ gone to plan.

Blunt hadn't known if Alex would retain the same skill sets- mainly, being able to mold into different characters, or portray certain types of people.

After all, one of the great skills of both spies and assassin was blending in- or putting on a show when necessary. Alex's skill at the airport had done just that- he could convince people he was an adult.

It was a rare talent that had proven useful- something that was almost impossible to learn.

Yet something Ian had taught him well.

That skill- it had been necessary for Alex to have it, even after his mental withdraw.

He hadn't wanted Alex to be _completely_ robotic- he wanted that type of control, yes, but he needed the same _usefulness _that only being human could given. So, it was a compromise, of sorts- molding Alex into some type of mindless slave, still having human-like features, but still completely and totally owned by MI6.

One of Alex's current weaknesses, was that unless he was specifically told to 'act out the part,' the teen could not comprehend nor participate in emotional conversations.

It was a form of socializing he had no place in.

Thankfully, before he had started sending Alex out on missions, he had devised a series of tests consisting of different personas he would need to mold into, different situations to react to. The teen had easily and flawlessly blended into each persona and situation. However, Blunt knew that if Alex was with K-Unit for an extended amount of time, that it was entirely possible that his perfect mechanism would shut down, unable to process the emotions of seeing and trying to respond emotionally to K-Unit.

Divide and conquer- Blunt had certainly succeeded in that way, and was currently monitoring all contact between them. It would only be a matter of time before K-Unit tried something foolish- and he was fully prepared when the situation would arise.

* * *

_III: Alex Rider_

* * *

His mind was dark for the most part.

There were parts that were completely blocked off- Alex knew most of it was memory, experience of the world that would only be considered a hinderance- and thus, he wasn't allowed in that place in his mind. He had no use for anything that would create a weakness, or cause inefficiency.

He liked processing information- visual, smell, and hearing were his main ones. Taste had no interest to him- if it was edible food, preferable nutritious, that was all that mattered.

Touch was useful to a certain extent- for recognizing substances based on their texture. Human touch, however, he absolutely _despised_\- it brought on the stir of emotions, which also confused him, yet he was trained to immediately shut down them when the did appear. Of course, he wasn't allowed to act inappropriately if touched- it was inevitable on some missions, yet he couldn't react the way he would have wanted to- flinching, or fighting back.

Analyzing people and movements, coming up with logical conclusions- all of it was part of the job, part of what made him _useful_.

One thing that was more difficult to process, was pain- something he was feeling quite a lot of at the moment.

He was aware that he had failed his mission- or, hadn't completed it, which basically meant the same thing to Blunt. He had completed the first two assassinations successfully, but his third target had been tipped off, leading to his cover being blown and him being captured.

And that was where he was now.

Blunt wouldn't sent MI6 agents to come retrieve him until he completed his assignment, he knew.

It was a matter or waiting- until they let their guard down, but not before his body was too physically weak to escape.

He endured the pain somewhat easily- it was simple enough to detach himself from it, to allow his mind to focus on other tasks.

Although his body felt pain, his reactions could be controlled, or manipulated- pain was a message, but one that he didn't necessarily have to receive, or acknowledge. Either way, his pain tolerance was higher than average.

Honestly, it was their own mistake for only having two guards on him; also, they had allowed him without cuffs for a moment too long.

Alex then had focused on staying hidden, going deeper into the building's security, intent of completing his assignment.

O-o-O-o-O

"This is Royal and General, how may I be of service?"

"I need a secure line to Alan Blunt," Alex spoke calmly, ignoring the adrenaline and the sense of urgency to _get out_. "Agent Rider, ID..." he then rattled off a string of numbers and letters.

A moment later, a familiar dull voice came on. "Yes, Agent Rider?"

"Request for immediate retrieval, sir," Alex said respectfully.

"Is your assignment complete?" the dry voice rasped.

That an glanced beside him, where a woman lay face-down, her neck snapped cleanly. "Yes, sir."

"Very well, a retrieval team will be at the roof in twenty minutes."

The line immediately disconnected.

He wasted no time going to his pre-planned exit strategy- the air ducts. Before mapping out the assassination, he had made sure to memorize the blueprints- and take note of the security- which had proven to be useful.

He had taken care of his main injuries- but it had only been a few days. It wouldn't take long to recover before he was issued another mission.

Same old, same old.

O-o-O-o-O

You should not be surprised to be treated as a tool, a weapon- after all, that is all you are to them.o

O-o-O-o-O

**I probably don't deserve any tips because of the long wait you had to endure- once again, please accept my humblest apologies.**


	25. Aftermath IV: Fox

**Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider.**

* * *

Twenty-three days.

It had been over three weeks since torturing Cub, putting him through things _no one_ should have had to endure, his own personal hell that Blunt had devised for him.

Five-hundred fifty hours since the worst day of his life- and that was saying something.

Thirty-three thousand, one-hundred twenty minutes since being cut off from his team- well, that had already happened when he had been reassigned to MI6- but now, his teammates were scattered across the globe.

Ben ducked a few scattered bullets that had been too close for comfort.

Oh, yeah- one-million, nine-hundred-eighty-seven thousand, two-hundred seconds since being issued another mission (give or take).

It was a joint mission with the CIA- him posing with several other agents as a traditional family, in order to fish out a few home-grown terrorists.

However, their targets must have had done a black market deal, hence the AMP-69s; although the file hadn't mentioned them as owners of said-gun or being licensed.

Ben rolled his eyes at that- America and their gun laws.

It would only work if they went all in, or backed off completely.

Personally, at the moment, Fox was opting for less gun-wielding citizens.

Thankfully, it was three highly-trained agents (even if it was the CIA, Fox mused to himself), against two men, shall we say, _lacking_ in firearms training (maybe the file had been right in not mentioning them having firearms training- they had little-to-no skills with handling guns. Still, having two half-crazed Americans, not to mention _terrorists,_ shooting at them wasn't exactly a pleasant experience.

It wasn't long until they had everything under control, the perpetrators arrested, and any potential bombs disarmed- they hadn't even needed their back-up SWAT team, and there were virtually no witnesses to be paid off.

All in all, a decent mission- except that nagging feeling that somewhere, most likely on the other side of the world, was a broken boy completing the dark missions- the suicide ones. And, to some extent, he wouldn't even be aware of it- nor of the man who controlled his every move.

O-o-O-o-O

Ben left the office as soon as possible- it was miraculous how _boring_ debriefings were. And rather pointless- couldn't they just wait for his damned report?

Or, even better- have the debriefing and completely _skip_ all the paperwork.

Apparently, the CIA's debriefings were just as long and tedious as MI6's were. Of course, it wasn't the first time he had worked with the CIA.

His lip curled in disgust. The CIA was where he had perfected the techniques of waterboarding.

The same form of torture he had used on Cub.

Fox closed his eyes, wanting to forget about that night completely- but he couldn't; he didn't _deserve _to forget.

Sighing once more, Ben flicked through all the emails and useless notifications that had built up during the mission- after recently retrieving it from when he had turned it in.

Ben frowned at one of the more older ones- from Wolf.

It was short and (_not_ sweet) to the point.

Reading simply: **Reply ASAP. Get on your contacts to find out if Cub is still alive and where he is. You'd better keep us updated and don't die on us.**

Fox almost rolled his eyes at the bluntness- but it was to be expected, after all.

O-o-O-o-O

Nothing.

He'd called up anyone and everyone he knew, the hackers on the DarkNet, fellow agents from their respective agencies and even _criminal informants._

Nothing.

Not.

One.

Damned.

_Thing._

Fox nearly growled in frustration, but caught himself; regaining composure and remaining calm.

He'd narrowed it down to the Middle East- where Alex was currently assigned, but he had yet to get a more precise location and confirmation that he was still alive, and what condition he was in.

Drumming his fingers on the desk space, his mind raced, searching for _one_ more person he could-

The best people to ask would be Mossad- it was their specialty, location-wise, but he didn't have any connections there, as he had yet to be assigned on a mission with them.

Did he know any _ex_-Mossad agents? Someone with big enough connections, so that they would still be able to have access to information?

What about-

Fox brightened, hand reaching to dial a somewhat familiar phone number.

His informant picked up after the second ring.

"Yes? Who is this?"

"David," he greeted. "It's me, Daniels."

There was a pause as the person on the other end contemplated. "Ah, yes, of course. MI6, no? Are you still working for them?"

Fox swallowed. "Yes, I am." Now for the harder part. "Listen, I need a favor."

"What is it?" came the blunt question.

"Can you find out if there's an Alex Rider somewhere in the Middle East? And if he's still alive?"

David hesitated. "I believe that is possible. I have several contacts that will be able to find him."

Ben sighed. "Thanks Ziva, you're the best."

O-o-O-o-O

It was less than a day later when he received a phone call from her.

"My contact found Rider," Ziva began, sounding somewhat reluctant.

"How is he?" Ben pressed urgently.

"Alive," Ziva answered shortly. "However, his assignment was in Syria, his objective the assassination of several high-government officials. Rider was picked up by MI6 hours ago- it wasn't too bad, but he'll need some recovery."

Ben swallowed. "What went wrong?"

"His third and final mark had been tipped off," the Israeli answered. "Rider was compromised, and captured."

He closed his eyes. "How long?"

"...They had him for three days."

Fox grit his teeth, forcing himself to remain calm. "Why the _hell_ did MI6 not pick him up sooner?" he ranted, the anger at his employers, not David.

"Perhaps they could not find him."

Ben pinched the bridge of his nose. "They had a _tracker_ planted in him."

In, not _on._

Ziva was quiet for a moment; she knew his word usage was not a mistake- and knew of Rider's real age. "The three days marked his escape and retrieval, but he ended up completing his assignment- _before_ MI6 showed up on the set."

"I think you mean 'scene,' Ziva," Ben remarked quietly.

Rage threatened to boil over, and Ben was finding it harder to resist punching something. He took a calming breath. "MI6," he said slowly, "didn't retrieve him... until he completed his mission." _Which was an assassination._ No, _three _assassinations.

"Yes," Ziva said tersely.

Ben ran a hand through his hair, weary. "Alright, thanks Ziva."

"_Shalom,_ my friend."

"_Shalom_," he ended the phone call with the Hebrew blessing.

It was worse than he thought- Alex didn't have the ability to refuse orders, and was far too accepting of Blunt's in particular.

MI6 hadn't only turned him into a perfect spy... but an assassin, as well.

Once again, Been deeply regretted not being able to see the big picture- what Blunt was hoping to achieve, while K-Unit had still been with him.

_It was all his fault._

O-o-O-o-O

"You did well," Mrs. Jones praised, the second debriefing over.

Fox inclined his head.

"You will have another two weeks before your next mission," Mrs. Jones informed him. "Is there anything else you need?"

Ben thought back to the brief reply he had sent to Wolf, right before he had got on the plane. "There is one thing," the agent said quietly. "Can I see Alex?"

Mrs. Jones smile was sickly sweet. "I am afraid not, he is currently on a mission."

Ben nodded courteously. "Of course. And how is he doing?" He restrained his anger- if MI6 was telling the truth, Alex had had less than four days recovering from three days of torture.

"He is faring very well," she lied smoothly. "If that is all, you are dismissed."

"Thank you." Ben got up from his chair, nothing more to be said or done- there was no arguing with MI6, especially not about information he shouldn't have known in the first place.

He left.

O-o-O-o-O

It should come as no surprise that your superiors cannot be trusted- there is no such thing in this business.

* * *

**By the way, that was merely a _reference_ to NCIS- this really isn't a crossover.**


	26. Aftermath V: Wolf

**Note: Ren O'neil and Sagebrush helped me a good amount with describing both Wolf and Eagle. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider**

* * *

It hadn't taken long before Wolf had gained the recruits' respect- already, after two weeks, he was being dubbed as a man harder than the two-star General who was actually running the Marine Base.

Instructor, teacher, mentor, friend, comrade, brother-in-arms, and above all, _soldier._

He had received compliments and good reports from his peers and commanding officers; not something he wasn't already _used_ to, of course, he had gotten plenty of it back in the SAS.

Not like he didn't have humility or anything- he had learned plenty from when he had been a green recruit in the Royal Army, before being selected as a recruit for the SAS.

However, one of his fine 'lessons in humility' had been from a punk who had kicked him out of a plane.

Wolf's thoughts darkened at the teenage boy- and MI6. He wondered what war-torn country in the Middle East Cub was risking his neck out for completing his easy 'surveillance' missions.

Forcing his mind on other things- like how much he had matured since that parachuting training exercise. War had easily beaten the fear of heights out of him, reminding him that there were worse things out there.

One of the things that particularly irked him was how _green_ the recruits were- kids from ages seventeen to twenty three, who had never seen or experienced even a hint of war or death.

And, he couldn't say that he _didn't_ enjoy beating the shit out of them, only to turn around and teach them how to do it themselves.

Some of the kids reminded Wolf of himself- oh, say, a decade ago.

Wolf sobered. Not all of them would see war- at least, not how _he_ had. This was Marine basic training- the kids' _first_ transition from civilian to soldier. Only some of them would be selected for combat, and would be deployed overseas to fight.

And Wolf was damn near determined to prepare them.

O-o-O-o-O

'Impressed' wasn't a word General Oldan described himself very often. However, the word _impressed_ fit perfectly with his current state of mind- at least for the soldier SOD had sent him- one from the Special Air Service, or SAS. Damon Rovero, or Wolf, the codename he preferred, had quickly gained the respect of his peers, along with the recruits he had been in charge of training.

It was for a trial-testing for the specialized class, one that was proving invaluable.

At first, Oldan had been doubtful- what could a lone SAS soldier offer that his own men, or government, couldn't provide?

A lot, it turned out.

It was odd- he was teaching the recruits small snippets that entire classes were used for; yet the experience, technique, and his own mixture of training the general had yet to see, was remarkable.

He had given Wolf three two-hour slots for classes per day, along with an hour that had all the recruits together. And, of course, switching it up to have classes Monday-Wednesday-Friday, and Tuesday-Thursday-Saturday.

Even he had been surprised at the results- superb ones, ones that he wouldn't have believed unless he had seen it with his own eyes.

It hadn't been until he had sat in on a few classes, that he had finally realized he was impressed with the shorter-than-average Hispanic soldier.

O-o-O-o-O

The only thing missing was that his unit was absent, Wolf thought glumly as he began prepping for his classes- that _he_ was teaching (ha!).

He was treated with the respect of an officer- a nice gig compared to the recruits who weren't technically even in the military, yet.

His classes were all in the afternoon, not including the hour after dinner, which he was planning on using as a wrap-up session at end of the day.

That meant he had the entire morning free- besides for the meeting with the DIs and other officers before the recruits were even awake. The meeting ended by 0530, which was the wake-up call for the recruits, and Wolf used up a good chunk of his 'free time' by doing intense PT- hell, he had an entire _Marine Corps base_ at his fingertips, of course he was going to make good use of it.

Mainly, though, he used the workouts as a distraction- from (dare he say it) missing his unit, and the remorse of the last time he had been with Cub... before _that_ had happened.

Hell, he'd been _beating up_ a teenager. It was _nothing _like the times, back at Brecon Beacons, when Cub had been fourteen, during unarmed combat classes- sure, they'd _sparred, _he'd _won__, _but... not like this. Not having a defenseless teenager, chained to the floor, and him going all-out on an interrogation on him; Blunt knew he had been trained for knowing- and using- the more pain-oriented places that Cub had experienced during the beating.

He closed his eyes. There was no way he would ever forgive himself on what had happened that day.

Forcing his thoughts elsewhere, he focused on the task at hand- preparing his classes.

O-o-O-o-O

Wolf eyed the recruits critically.

None of them looked happy to be there- good. Upon meeting them for his first class, he'd had them all doing an intensive PT- he could easily pick out the ones who were working harder, contrary to the ones who was merely going through the motions of obeying orders- not wanting to push themselves to their full potential _(breaking point)_ and surpassing it.

He knew which exercises to use, he'd made sure to use ones they'd never even heard of before- that hesitation, insecurity, the self-built doubt of _not knowing_ would easily break them down.

He knew how long to keep them at it- sometimes changing it up on a select few recruits.

It was his way of psyching them out- them never knowing when, or what, or how long.

He knew what it was like on a personal level- it had been done to him before, in his own training.

Plus, it had given the recruits a perfect first impression- relentless, harsh, fighter, the ideal soldier.

They didn't like him one bit- which was good. It meant that they had common enemy, one they both feared, and would learn to respect. Having a common enemy also brought them closer as a platoon, as a team- another class tactic that was regularly seen at military training camps.

One thing they _hadn't _expected, was for Wolf to do the majority of the exercises _with_ them. Of course, he would still need to regulate their speed and consistency, along with making sure they all had proper form. But by half-allowing himself to be brought down to their level was effective in its own way- the respect factor would be helpful later.

He put grim smile on. "I want a straight line. _Now._"

The recruits practically scrambled to obey, and the line was formed quickly and efficiently.

"Today we're doing unarmed hand-to-hand combat," Wolf began when the recruits silenced; it was obvious they weren't impressed- after all, unarmed hand-to-hand was a class they did daily. Well, he'd just have to make sure his was 'unique' and 'special.'

He didn't immediately pair them off. Instead, he made sure they were all in the view, and called a volunteer up- who just so happened to be one of the more arrogant recruits. Wolf knew- he'd been observing them all during training, specifically hand-to-hand.

It was harder to teach huge masses of people at once- everyone needed some amount of one-on-one time, especially for this particular class.

Even he enjoyed watching the recruits' awe as he taught them moves they wouldn't have learned in five years. He'd been immensely grateful for his training, when it had been finally put to good use; it had saved _his_ life too many time to count, not to mention fellow soldiers.

When he finally _did_ pair them off, he made sure they all, for the most part, had a good grasp on the five new attacking methods, he made sure to pair them off randomly, but to assign their new partners as the ones who would match him or herself speed for speed, strength for strength, same skill level- he had taken everything into consideration

Wolf certainly wasn't dumb, and out of any of his skills, he knew how to fight.

O-o-O-o-O

"Yeah, sure- we're teaching you how to fight. But it's not just learning the _rules_ of fighting- it's also learning how to break them. The real world doesn't fight fairly- they won't wait for you to catch your breath, or avoid hitting your weaknesses- they'll hit you with everything they got, and it's _our _job to teach you how to fight back- but it's your job to absorb the information we're giving you, to _learn_. Learn how to play by the rules, but you also need to know how to break them."

O-o-O-o-O

"Everyone has those weak points. Those chinks in their armour they don't want anyone to see. You have them. I have them. Did you know I used to be afraid of heights? Yeah, hard to believe- a tough guy like me. That was until I had been kicked out a plane by _un m__ocoso estúpido. _And, of course, the other dozen times I've been parachuting, rappelling- hell, even rock climbing without a safety harness. _Everyone_ has fears; it's just learning how to deal with them- that's the hard part. Learning to accept reality and dive headfirst into the danger, with or without fear. Bravery is being afraid but going through with it anyway. _Remember _that."

O-o-O-o-O

It had been two weeks since emailing Fox and there was still no answer.

Wolf was getting- not that he would admit it- worried. He hated being separated from his unit, form his team. Absolutely _despised _it when his teammates were hurting and he just had to stand by and watch- he felt so goddamned _weak._

Among other things, his classes were getting results- thankfully, good ones, he'd heard.

He'd been surprised and startled when General Oldan had approached him the other day.

"Wolf," the general greeted.

The soldier immediately stood to attention, hand raised in a solute. "Sir."

"At ease."

Wolf shifted to a slightly more relaxed position.

The general nodded to the recruits who were leaving the building. "I've heard some good reports from your overseeing officers. You're doing very well."

"Thank you, sir," Wolf shrugged off the praise. ""They're all good men, for the most part- all the potential is there, at the very least. It's just a matter of them learning how to tap into it."

General Oldan raised an eyebrow. "Your pep talks have also definitely helped- especially during basic training, encouragement is vital, but can't be given by the DIs."

Wolf snorted. That was certainly true. "The stuff I've been giving them is crap that can be found just about anywhere."

The general chuckled. "Yes, of course, just know that I have been pleased with the results from your expert teaching."

Wolf watched as the general left, saluting automatically.

He was too distracted to think deeper in the conversation- if only Fox would pick up his goddamned phone already!

O-o-O-o-O

The next morning, he had a new email in his inbox.

From Fox- it was about time, he grumbled to himself, secretly relieved.

**Alex just got back from a mission in Syria. His assignment was the assassination three government higher-ups. The third one was tipped off; Alex was compromised and held for three days before he broke out and completed the assassination. MI6 picked him up shortly after. I don't know how bad his condition is or how long he'll be allowed to recover before he's assigned another mission.**

Wolf sighed, wearily rubbing his face. Three days being tortured- he wasn't sure how Cub's current mindset had taken it, or how damaged he was- it could have been a lot worse than three days, but three days was certainly enough- enough time to be broken.

O-o-O-o-O

_"__Ductus exemplo."_ Lead by example.

-Marine Corps, OCS, motto


	27. Aftermath VI: Snake

**Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider.**

* * *

It was back to the books, huh?

Snake could hardly believe it.

It was his first Fall semester at University, not _the_ first, but his first towards his masters'.

One of the requirements for the SAS, was having a BA and four years' Army training and experience. If he took summers as well, he'd probably make it in less than a year and a half. He was at the envy of many of the other soldiers- superiors didn't pay very many people to go back to school, but doctors- especially _field_ doctors- were needed, and his extensive experience in the SAS only helped in that matter. It was a sweet gig- same paycheck, scholarship to a top university, and more relaxation time.

To most people, of course- and Snake wasn't one of them.

A quiet and calm medic did not make him 'soft'- he wouldn't have made it as far in his military career- and certainly not the SAS- if he'd been _soft._ No, it was a _necessity_ for soldiers had to be calm in the midst of chaos, trained to fight, trained to _kill_. And, also trained to protect themselves.

Except that Snake knew that he didn't need two extra years of schooling in order to learn how to do something he already knew how to do- and certainly not a piece of _paper_ to tell him what he knew.

He needed to be there- for his unit, for _Cub- _god knows they couldn't take care of themselves.

Snake frowned down at a textbook, eyes reading the information yet not absorbing it- his thoughts elsewhere.

No, that wasn't right- they wouldn't have made it this far if they didn't rely on eachother. On the other hand, they also wouldn't have been successful as soldiers if they weren't strong individuals. It was that balance- of teamwork and strength, _that_ was hard to find.

But Cub... he had relied on himself for far too long. Sure, his uncle had _trained _him, trying to _prepare _him for MI6, and Jack had done her best to protect him- but MI6, specifically Blunt, had more power. Far too much power. He had _control._

Blunt had toyed with Cub in the same sadistic way many of his enemies had- if not worse.

Hmm... that was an interesting thought- who had treated Cub worse, Blunt or the various criminal organizations Cub had been affiliated with?

Before he could delve into _that _topic, a familiar man plopped himself in the chair opposite Snake- currently at an outdoor cafe.

Snake nodded at him. "It's good to see you. Thanks again for agreeing to meet with me."

"Let's skip the pleasantries," the man said brusquely. "I know you didn't come to catch up with an old professor."

Snake grew serious- Dr. Tanner, his psychology professor, had always been a favorite with his blunt and no-nonsense attitude _(straight to the point- like Wolf)_. He was also an Infantry Officer, retired military.

Professor Tanner was smart- sharp eyes that missed nothing, his mind quick to analyze and make conclusions, along with fantastic deductive reasoning skills.

"My question has to do with the human psyche," Snake began. "Specifically, I need to know the reasons behind a _hypothetical_ situation- how and if it could happen."

Professor Tanner smiled thinly. "Hypothetically, of course. Please continue."

Snake obliged. "Take a teenage boy, who has been trained to be both physically and mentally prepared for war- and is finally is sent to the front lines via blackmail," the soldier paused, carefully observing Dr. Tanner's reactions- or lack thereof. "Two years pass- he has seen death and also made it happen. PTSD, nightmares, paranoia- the whole shebang. In his fragile state of mind, he has been continually treated as a tool, a weapon, by his superiors- a dog, if you prefer. He has been forced into a life he did not want, and is now being broken and built back up, molded into the weapon he is. Tell me the type of training that would be used that would force him to completely withdraw into his own mind, but still retain his same skill sets."

Dr Tanner sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, eyes tired and weary- tinged with bitterness and remorse. "I heard the rumors... I didn't _want _to believe them, though."

"I must remind you that this is a completely hypothetical situation," Snake pointed out humorlessly.

"Yes, yes," the man dismissed him. He paused for a moment, thinking. "Isolation. Physical exhaustion. Intensive PT. Psychological abuse and/or torture- mind games. Sleep deprivation. And, of course, previous experience with trauma. Continually breaking him before building him up- which you also mentioned. Other forms of mental stress," he listed them off tonelessly, before looking up. "Please explain more of what his current state would be."

"Loss of previous memories, emotionless, mechanical, completely obedient and submissive to his superior officers." Snake shrugged. "You get the idea."

Dr. Tanner nodded thoughtfully. "In order to return to his original mindset, he would need a completely new life- being cut off from his superior officer,, obviously. He would need to adjust to civilian life, in the hands of people he once knew and trusted, but not someone who had ever hurt him- physically or psychologically."

Snake's heart sank- Cub didn't have anyone else _besides _them.

"It would take time- I'm sure he would return eventually- but only if his subconsciousness _wanted_ to return, and recognized change." Dr. Tanner pursed his lips. "I'm afraid that is all I can say for sure- I do hope it was helpful, and best of luck to you."

Snake inclined his head, mind still reeling from the new information he had just received. "Thank you, you've been a great help."

Dr. Tanner raised an eyebrow. "As far as I'm concerned, I was merely catching up with an old student of mine, nothing more." With that, he got up from the table, heading toward his vehicle. "Farewell, I hope we meet again."

O-o-O-o-O

**Snake: Guys, it's me. I got news... some good, some bad. Recently, I met with an old psychology professor of mine. Trusted, of course. After briefly talking to him about our situation, he says Cub's mental state probably isn't permanent.  
****The problem is, his subconsciousness needs to see change before the real Cub comes back. ****Which means he needs to get out of England, his line of work, and **_**especially**_ **MI6 (*cough* **_**Blunt**_** *cough*). ****Only... he needs to be taken care of by people who haven't hurt him at all- people he trusts... which isn't us.  
****Hey Fox, I know the situation is hopeless it we bring it to the courts, but are there any other ways of getting him back?**

**Fox: Dammit.  
No, nothing that's legal.**

**Snake: You know what I meant- We're getting Cub, it doesn't matter how.**

O-o-O-o-O

"The human psych. So beautiful. So amazing. So miraculous- yet at the same time, extremely delicate. And so very easy to break... especially the minds of those who are already broken."

-Exodus Tristan

* * *

**I'm really hoping someone 'gets' that quote at the end... and technically he never said that. Hint: Exodus Tristan is fictional.**


	28. Aftermath VII: Eagle

**Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider.**

* * *

Getting wasted was only one way to deal with your problems.

However, most people's' problems didn't include torturing and breaking a freakin' teenage spy.

Not to mention the _betrayal._

Eagle closed his eyes, downing another shot of whiskey.

He knew what it was like to feel betrayed- from his mum abandoning him at age seven and an abusive father, to the 'friends' at school who only wanted to mooch off of him for homework help.

It had changed when he had gotten to secondary school- he'd hit his growth spurt, and was no longer the skinny computer nerd, but the ruggedly handsome jock that everyone got along with. He hid behind the smiles and jokes, being the person to laugh _with_, not at. It was an easy mode of defense, and, well, old habits die hard as he used it in the Army as well- a way of him relieving stress. No one ever knew about the bruises and scars hidden under his clothes, or his constant worry of his younger sister- who was getting older... and he hated the way his dad looked at her, eyes full of hunger.

Eagle had made sure that he'd taken the brute of the force from his father's heavy hand, and knew that when he left, it would go to his sister.

He didn't want any more of that life for her; not now, not ever.

The day he'd come of age at eighteen had been the day he joined the military- and when he'd reported to the police as an anonymous tip. His aunt lived in France, he knew she would take his sister in.

Loyalty was the utmost importance to him, it burned in the essence of his very core.

The day he'd first realized how truly broken and battered the teen was... he didn't think that he'd _ever_ betray that loyalty- let alone _torture_ him.

It had been so insanely easy for him to form a protective bond over Cub- and yeah, he'd been a jerk when they first met, and a complete faker the second time.

Third time's the charm, and he'd hit the sweet spot on that one.

Yet... it had only taken a few mere months before he had broken it.

Broken that _trust._

That bastard had put him in a lose-lose situation, one that disallowed him from doing anything but the _ultimate __act of betrayal._

And oh _god_, how he missed his unit.

How he and Snake would have their usual banter, and Fox would sigh, facepalm, muttering to himself why he even bothered to come back for a visit. Then Snake and him would start fighting with _Fox_, and Wolf would growl for them to shut up- the warning remaining ignored, until the order was emphasized with a fist or a sharp jab in the rips, and they'd _all_ be yelling at eachother in mock anger- never _real _anger, and Cub would watch, fascinated at the sight before him, and Eagle could always see that _yearning_ to join in, to be part of the family, which was ridiculous, because he already _was._

(It had always put him in a melancholy mood when Cub didn't seem to know _how_ to join in, that complete and utter lack of understanding of laughter and jokes and mock battles. Even Snake, a single child, had easily joined in. Cub always seemed to know the right thing to say- or, at the very least, _pretend_ to know the right thing to say- but it had been awkward, when it was obvious he _wanted _to join in, but _couldn't_.)

And Cub was part of the unit- part of the family... unfortunately, a dysfunctional family that was currently scattered across the globe, Eagle thought mournfully as another shot disappeared.

But not indefinitely- that much was certain.

O-o-O-o-O

Eagle observed the rows of soldiers (one-hundred twenty-five to be exact) with a careful eye.

Thankfully, they were all soldiers who had graduated from basic training already- that was one relief.

The men in front of him were silent, standing stock-still. They were already tired and weary from the completion of the first phase of Ranger School. Except they weren't done yet- they had eight weeks with him before phase two ended, and phase three began.

Eight weeks, two hours per day. It wasn't ideal, but it would do.

"I am well aware that this is dipping into your rest time- for sleeping, studying, and what little free time you actually have. If what I say applies to you, you must leave. This is not a required class- you are free to go whenever you wish," the soldier informed them. "Dropping out or failing this class will not result inf expulsion from Ranger School. I will say, if you have hopes to be in combat, specifically a sniper or marksman, you must to stay unless otherwise informed.

"Don't be shy- if you don't want to be here, raise your hand." Eagle glared at the soldiers, daring them to disobey.

Eight hands went up.

"You are dismissed." Eagle gestured for them to leave. "One more thing- if you leave, you can't come back."

And then there were one-hundred seventeen.

"If you are _absolutely_ sure that you will not be in combat, leave now. I'm not going to waste my time improving your shooting if you aren't even going to use it in the field," Eagle said coldly. "Save yourself the embarrassment of me personally telling you to leave- I can easily find out from your overseeing officers."

And then there were seventy-eight.

"Leave if you have any moral obligation of shooting someone in cold blood- or from afar, through a scope. Also, if you don't think you could kill a potential innocent."

And then there were seventy-three.

Eagle re-surveyed the remaining soldiers. "Good. Now that _that's_ taken care of, let's get started.

"Raise your hand if you are confident you will be able to pass this class- albeit not easily."

Eagle counted the hands- six.

"Leave." There weren't any complaints- these _were_ trained soldiers. "Overconfidence will kill you," Eagle said quietly, advice he knew the men would need.

And then there were sixty-seven.

The sniper then instructed the soldiers to write their names on a single sheet of paper, hung up at the range on proud display. "If you want to drop out, cross your name out when you decide to do so," Eagle explained. "It doesn't matter when- even in the middle of class, as long as you don't make a scene. Again, the same rule applies- once your name is crossed out, there's no coming back. And please be reminded that you won't be able to learn what I'm about to teach you anywhere else- at least not legally," the soldier admitted. "It's a form of shooting that's saved my life too many times to count. It's called... instinctive shooting."

O-o-O-o-O

Two men quit before the first lesson was even halfway through.

Not because it was particularly hard or difficult, but because-

"This is stupid," one of the soldiers grumbled. "Being able to strip your gun down in less than a minute isn't going to help shooting in any way." He and another soldier- who obviously agreed- left abruptly, crossing their names off as the did.

And then there were sixty-five.

"Before I teach you anything about shooting, you need to _know_ your gun," Eagle provided, as soon as they were gone. "You won't be able to shoot instinctively until you have been familiarized with every square inch of your rifle." There was a pause as the soldiers absorbed this, before the sniper switched back to teaching. "I know during the last hour, your times have improved dramatically- I want you to now try it blindfolded."

He had their attention after his speech- they were now curious about their mysterious shooting instructor.

It wouldn't be long before he had gained their respect.

O-o-O-o-O

For the next week, Eagle only had them stripping their weapons down.

More quit- and more were forced to leave. Eagle picked off anyone who couldn't strip his weapon down in less than one minute, thirty seconds, blindfolded. He didn't want students whose hearts weren't in it, or lacked in the necessary skills.

Eagle raised an eyebrow at the remaining soldiers. "I believe a demonstration is in order, wouldn't you say?"

O-o-O-o-O

The soldiers were positively gaping at him by the time he was done.

Eagle had instructed them to set up six randomized targets at various distances, while he had his back turned.

Once the order was given that they were ready, the sniper had spun around instantly, rifle up.

Six targets.

Six shots.

Then, when the targets had been examined- six bullseyes.

The soldiers had watched in awe as Eagle barely glanced at the targets- seemingly not even aiming- as he fired the shots off in rapid succession.

Eagle's lips twiched, turning toward the soldiers. "Your turn."

O-o-O-o-O

_Nine days previously._

Eagle let out a sigh as he entered the empty shooting range- the Army Ranger recruits he would be teaching would be arriving next week, and he needed to refresh himself before he began teaching any classes.

That, and shooting had always taken his mind off of things.

Even at the SAS, during selection, it had been his way of de-stressing- in an almost _relaxing_ way.

Before enlisting, he had never even touched a gun, let alone learn how to shoot one. His shooting instructor at basic had immediately noticed him as a potential sharpshooter- and sniper.

Under his instructor's guidance, Eagle had quickly risen to the top of the class.

At the SAS, he'd quickly learned the art of long-distance and instinctive shooting.

Even the instructors had been shocked at the ease in which he had picked it up, showing such fierce determination that he would _get it right_, and that he could and _would_ perfect his skillset, so that no one else under his watch would get hurt.

Ha ha. Yeah, right- look at how _that_ had turned out.

_("...Eagle?) _the pain in his face, the mark of betrayal. _("You- you said you **wouldn't**.") _And those eyes- the ones that had _trusted_ him, the ones that had allowed himself to be _comforted, **protected**_, after so many people had failed him in the past... the eyes filled with raw pain and-and _("Ian! Please- **don't go!** I'll do better next time, please- just-just **don't leave me.**)_ and **_hurt_**_ (She's gone, Alex. She **died**." Because of you. **All your fault.**)_ and haunted- afraid of how _vulnerable_ he was in front of a person he _trusted_, whom he had poured out _all his secrets to._

Nimble fingers moved with practised ease, checking and double-checking for damages or repairs that needed to be done, as he dismantled, then cleaned, then reassembled it/before clicking it back together again.

Loading it came next- snapping a magazine in place, re-adjusting the sight.

It was a part of him, that gun, part of his soul, part of his mind, part of his very _being_.

The targets were prepped- ready when he was.

His eyes shot open, finger moving on the trigger before he was consciously aware of it; each bullet hitting its mark with deadly accuracy.

_("I'm not human anymore," Cub said softly._

_Eagle frowned, gently pulling the teen closer to him, arm wrapped comfortingly around his slim shoulders- **god**_**_, _**_he was so **small**, no wonder everyone underestimated him. "Of course your human," Eagle lightly scolded. "Why would you think otherwise?"_

_The teen's eyes glossed over- a sign the soldiers had come to recognize as Cub... not being all there, not fully aware of his surroundings. "People treat me like a child... they don't think I can take care of myself," he muttered darkly. "When it's in their best interest, of course. Otherwise they just ship me off on another goddamned mission and-and they..." his voice broke, before he automatically re-composed himself- Eagle didn't like it one bit. "They don't treat me like an adult, either." His voice iced over. "But I've figured it out." Brown eyes hardened. "I'm just a weapon to them." Cub looked down, hugging his knees to his chest [Eagle forgot how _**_young_**_ he really was], those world-weary eyes shutting closed. "Why can't they just **leave me alone?**"_

_Eagle was suddenly aware of how **tired** Cub must have been- this process of being built up, only to be broken down once more- he wanted that cycle to **end. **For Blunt to just... **stop**._

_The teen was in such a fragile state of mind- not sobbing or crying... which almost made it worse._

_Eagle hated how **helpless** he was in this situation- how the pain was breaking Cub down, physically and mentally._

_The sniper allowed him draw closer, the teen burying his head in his shoulder, and Cub leaned into the contact, embracing the comfort, the **safety**._

_Eagle looked down, surprised when a [calloused where it should be soft] hand latched itself around his wrist._

_It was a subconscious move on Cub's part, but the soldier sobered at the significance of it._

_It was a reminder- that so many people had left him, betrayed hi trust... that he and K-Unit were the only ones left who would ever truly care about him,._

_All the others were gone._

_All the others had left him.)_

"I won't leave you, Cub," the sniper whispered. "We'll find you- we promise. And when we don't, there's no damn way we're ever letting go."

O-o-O-o-O

You can bribe politicians, buy-out wars... but you will never be able to pay for the amount of loyalty one soldier has for a brother-in-arms.

* * *

**Sorry, the title of the chapters may cause some confusion- this story is NOT complete, yet. 'Aftermath' stands for the aftermath of what just happened- the psychological stuff with Cub, the scattering of the K-Unit members, etc.**


	29. Time Bomb

**Thanks for sticking with me, guys- I appreciate it.**

**Guest- Yeah, me too. The other one is good, too. Semper fidelis, Always faithful.**

**Guest- I suppose we'll have to find out, no?**

**MusicalG23- Same, it was a lot of fun writing Eagle in that chapter. Pretty sure my skills in writing detail are sadly lacking, though. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider.**

O-o-O-o-O

Wolf sighed moodily.

It had been over a year since '6 had split his team up.

A whole freakin' _year._

They'd missed his birthday- hell, they didn't even know when his birthday _was_; but they knew was seventeen, now.

Fox had updated them when he could- consistently reassuring all of the soldiers that _yes_, Cub was still alive- and still under Blunt's thumb.

Alex's mental state hadn't changed, either, according to Fox.

As for the rest of the unit, they were having a bit more success in connecting to the real world. Fox had moved up the ranks, providing support to a multitude of intelligence agencies worldwide. Snake only had a few short semesters left before he finished his M.S, and would be promoted as a field doctor and sent on a tour to the Middle East- although his superiors were pestering him to move on to get his doctorate.

Eagle and Wolf had been the successful results of Britain's experiment of Britain-U.S. Military Liaisons. They were eagerly snapped up by the military for a variety of different training camps, including the Navy Seals, Army Rangers, Marine Infantry, and even the elite Military Academies as specialized instructors.

As much as they enjoyed teaching, a day never passed without them thinking about why they were there... and not with their team.

O-o-O-o-O

"This is the file containing the details of Rider's next mission," Alan Blunt explained to his deputy.

Mrs. Jones took it wordlessly. After glancing through the first few pages, she looked up sharply. "The Nakket? They're in Turkey?"

"Yes," he answered. "We recently received a tip that they're holed up in the mountains. From what we can tell, their fortress is impenetrable to normal covert ops- even a team of four men would be compromised."

Mrs. Jones tapped the folder. "This isn't a solo op, either- is there a way we could send in a drone? Or even a bomb?"

Blunt shook his head. "Their technology is far too advanced- they can intercept anything we send them, not to mention deter on the Turkish government, or even civilians."

She could imagine the hopeless peace talks of England sending a drone to Turkey- an utter nightmare.

"Rider is a valuable asset to lose," she pointed out. "Every agent we've sent in, to their various bases of operations, has been unsuccessful." _Killed._

"He's valuable _because_ he does his job," Blunt countered. With that, he pressed the intercom button built into his desk. "Send Agent Rider in."

O-o-O-o-O

The boy's eyes snapped open from his power nap, to see his temporary handler look at him, concerned. "You sure you're ready, kid?"

Alex eyed him warily. "Of course, sir."

The man pursed his lips, obviously not pleased with his current predicament. "Get your gear together. Another five minutes or so, and you're getting off."

He nodded, quickly slipping on his pack, before he re-adjusted his parachute. It was small and light- enough to get him past the high-tech security that constantly surveyed the night sky, past the mountain of sensors and satellites the Nakket had at their disposal.

Of course, it was a 10K hike up the mountain before he made it to their base- which was an absolute fortress, according to the information he had been provided with. It would take a bit more prep time to scope out the security before he planned his mode of attack.

The assignment wasn't going to be easy- they rarely were- especially with the lack of backup.

Except he was no stranger to solo ops- he worked alone.

Alex didn't like his odds, though. It wasn't just one or two marks to take out.

It was different this time- more difficult than he'd ever done.

_("Do you understand your objective?"_

_The spy's eyes slid up to meet hers. "Of course," he replied smoothly.)_

MI6 wanted Nakket to be done and over with- and they moved around so much it was almost impossible to get any information on their location.

But here, and now...

There were an approximate three hundred insurgents at their base.

His objective?

_Complete elimination._

O-o-O-o-O

_Two days later._

He'd slipped past their preliminary defenses, dropping from a plane, 10K from the base.

He'd been a mere shadow as he made his way to the fortress, securing a vantage point- watching, observing, analyzing.

He'd made calculations, plans- he had everything laid out, and of course, a multitude of backup plans.

Every detail, every flaw, every probability- nothing went past him.

Alex Rider was _ready_.

O-o-O-o-O

Most people would have waited until the guards were at their most vulnerable to take them out- right before the change in shift, when they would be sleepy and less alert.

Alex couldn't afford it- he would never have enough time to finish everyone off before an alarm went off.

No, he had to do this quietly and efficiently- taking them out as soon as possible, a few hours after their shift had started.

It was a moonless night- he'd intentionally waited; the darkness was one of his more dangerous weapons, and he'd need every advantage he could get.

The spy struck after the night and darkness was at its prime, using one of the devices that MI6 provided him with to temporarily disable the laser grid. His approach would be targeting the weaker side, with the least amount of guards, which was right past the laser grid and wall. He was wary of the infrared cameras- but '6 had also provided him with a combat uniform that provided defense against that problem. It was unusual for them to give him a wide variety of weapons and support, but Alex knew they didn't want him to fail this assignment.

Thankfully, the guards were spread out enough for him to take them out quietly, before any of them knew what was happening although he needed to be fast.

The cameras were connected to the guards' uniforms- they detected movements more than anything. And if the guards were only supposed to stand still, he was in the clear.

His combat knives were his best option, then, as he was able to catch each guard unaware, slitting a throat before carefully placing the body on the ground, and moving on to the next.

Once the area had been cleared, the spy moved on to his next target: the barracks.

There were five of them, holding an estimated total of two hundred men. He knew that there were a good fifty guards scattered throughout the base, currently on patrol- not including the the ones he had just taken out.

Alex started on the nearest barrack; only two of the five building were vacant- the second night shift had already started, the guards from the first night shift would already be asleep. He knew which ones were empty- he knew the barracks he needed to target.

Out of his pack came three small canisters, full of compressed gas- hydrogen sulphide. It worked quickly, killing after only few breaths- plus, it was invisible to the naked eye.

He moved quietly to the fan on the side of the building- the few windows that it had were closed, no gas would leak out. The teen tugged at the side of the small ventilation shaft, pulling off the cover before slipping in the gas canister.

There was a slight _hiss_ as he engaged it, and knew to put the cover back on quickly. He would later have to confirm the kills, but he was on a tight time limit- he needed to move fast.

It didn't take long for him to rig the other two barracks, and soon it was time to infiltrate the main building.

The MI6 techs had never been close enough to hack into them, but with is current range, not to mention he was past their blocking satellites, he managed to hack into their software, long enough to implant a loop in the camera. Security on the outside was extremely heavy, but inside was a completely different story.

The keypad was also hacked using MI6 technology, and the guards were unsuspecting as a shadow closed in on them.

Alex knew that the security would be focused on the outside of the building, rather than the inside.

The assassin went room by room, taking out guards when he came to them, eventually making his way to the control tower.

It was harder than, taking out half a dozen men in the same lit room, without any of them pulling an alarm.

Difficult, but not impossible.

Alex knew that even two of the men would have him subdued quickly and easily- but then again, his main weapons were surprise and stealth.

The teen slashed two throats and threw three knives before the sixth guard noticed.

The last guard didn't raise the alarm, only seeing a teenager, and advanced quickly upon him, drawing a firearm.

Before he could shoot- and raise attention to him- Alex threw his remaining knife.

The man gasped in surprise and pain as a knife protruded from his hand, which had immediately caused the gun to be dropped.

He was wounded, yes- and now angry- but he wasn't going to let a _teenager _get the best of him.

The man ignored the pain from his right hand, choosing to grab one of the knives from his dead comrades, and backed the teen in a corner- he was apparently unarmed, and wasn't anywhere near one of his knives.

The spy ducked the swipe from the knife, moving smoothly out of the way, and in position to jab at his ribs- cracking or fracturing a couple, but not breaking them.

The man caught the roundhouse kick aimed at his throat, twisting the appendage and pulling the boy off balance.

He threw the teen to the ground, not allowing enough time for him to roll to his feet, as he crushed one foot into his ribcage- getting a very satisfactory cry of pain- before the man disabled his right wrist, shattering the bone with one blow.

The teen's breathing hitched, but the man failed to see the fire in his eyes- as he exposed himself long enough for him to yank the knife out of his hand. The man yelled, moving back from the boy, staring as blood pooled from the wound.

Glaring coldly, the spy threw the knife; it landed in the center of his throat.

Alex rolled to his feet, glancing minutely at his injuries before deciding that no immediate medical attention was needed, before he continued his mission.

The main ventilation shaft was located right next to the control room, and was his main target.

Using his access from the control room, he managed to disable any alarms that would be triggered leading up to it.

Alex entered the storage room cautiously, wary of any stray guards- but the room was empty.

The teen unscrewed the vent cover, eventually able to pry it off. He then slipped the largest gas canister out of his pack, setting it carefully in the shaft; he would engage it once he was out of the building by remote- MI6 hadn't given him a gas mask. He put the cover back on, leaving everything as it was before had invaded.

O-o-O-o-O

The man began his hourly sweep of the base- he was expecting MI6 to make a move any day now, and had strategically placed cameras that were separate from the mainframe, and thus unhackable and undetectable.

Sitting at his desk, he pulled up the monitors, carefully flicking through the camera footage.

_There_.

A small figure emerged from the surrounding wilderness- he had somehow managed to avoid the laser grid- and quickly took out the nearby guards, before slipping between the barracks.

Intrigued, the man switched to a different camera angle, watching as he hooked up gas canisters to the barracks' ventilation systems. Smart- except he knew what the result would be. He must have scoped it out well, as he knew which barracks were currently occupied.

He pursed his lips, trying to get a better angle- his eyes widened when he saw who it was.

_Alex Rider._

Interesting.

So very interesting.

The man continued to watch as he took out any guards that happened to get in his way- he could easily see Alex's target was the control room.

The spy demonstrated an impressive amount of stealth and skills as he massacared the guards in the control tower, before he disabled the alarms for- a... storage room?

It took a moment for him to realize the significance- and he knew he had to intervene before Alex did some _real_ damage.

O-o-O-o-O

As soon as he left the room, the spy was ambushed.

It was only one man, but Alex struggled to keep up his defenses against the sudden flurry of strikes- especially with his current injuries.

He couldn't help but notice the attacks were all to disarm or disable. Not to kill.

They wanted him alive.

That, more than anything, only panicked him more.

He was no unsuspecting guard, he wasn't inexperienced- he was a master of his trade, his skills obviously surpassing Alex's own.

Too soon, he was forced in a submissive hold.

"I've been expecting you, Alex Rider," the spy heard the smooth voice before darkness set in.

O-o-O-o-O

Don't expect things to go your way- ever.


	30. Frame of Mind

**You guys are awesome, thanks so much for sticking to this story! Just knowing that someone is out there, reading it, is super encouraging.**

**Guest- I sincerely thank you. I'm still struggling to find that balance between a happy ending and a depressing one. The end is nigh, that's all I can say for right now.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider.**

O-o-O-o-O

"There's been a problem with Agent Rider's operation," Mrs. Jones informed her superior as she unwrapped another peppermint.

Alan Blunt looked up sharply. "I assume he has been compromised...?"

The woman nodded. "That's not all. We've lost his tracking signal."

Blunt tapped his desk thoughtfully. "That's very interesting. The only scanner that can detect the microchip is one Smithers developed- before he retired, of course- Rider recently received a skin graft, so the scar shouldn't be visible." He glanced at his deputy. "Find out how the scanner's designs were leaked. Also, the Nakket are more likely already gone. Rider won't be killed, he is too useful to them. The only thing we can do is wait for him to make his move."

Mrs. Jones nodded. "Of course, sir."

O-o-O-o-O

"You've changed."

Alex blinked, aware that the drug was gradually wearing off. They'd drugged him after knocking him unconscious- smart.

It was a brightly lit room- windowless, bare except for the cot he was in, and the man sitting across him in a chair.

The boy only had to glance once at the restraints to know he wouldn't be able to get out of them without outside help.

Alex studied the man closely, taking in the lean form. The accent he spoke with was undetectable- only the fact that English Wasn't his first language. He looked familiar- had they met before?- no, that was impossible; he would have remembered.

"You don't recognize me," the man stated sharply. "Do you not remember who I am?"

The spy knew for _certain_ that he had been drugged when he felt compelled to answer- and that _never_ happened. It wasn't strong enough to be a truth serum, though. "No, I don't know you."

The man showed no emotion as he gazed at the boy carefully. "Very well, we shall have to be re-acquainted. My name is Yassen Gregorovich."

The teen froze as a dozen images flashed briefly- along with those dreaded emotions that accompanied them.

He didn't know how long it was, but he was suddenly aware that his breathing was haggard.

"Allow me to explain what has happened," Yassen offered, waiting for no reply as he continued. "My name triggered either a flashback or an assortment of memories. There was more than that, correct? It was something you were unfamiliar with- emotions." His voice became bitter. "Blunt stripped you of your emotions, memory, and even your free will. I promised someone that I would get almost everything back. I'm not here to hurt you, but the process won't be painless." his voice hinted a warning. "However, I apologize in advance for the pain- out of anyone in this world, you don't deserve it."

O-o-O-o-O

It was dark- completely black.

And he was alone.

Completely, and utterly alone.

One of the worst things, was that none of his senses were working- or, picking up anything. His mind yearned for something to analyze, but there was absolutely nothing.

Without his senses, without him being able to evaluate anything, the only thing left was something that he had tried to keep at bay- his emotions.

They were slow at first, yet they still shocked him when they did come.

Loneliness.

Fear.

Doubt.

Anxiety.

Dread.

Panic.

Worry.

The yearn to be protected once more.

Slowly, bits and pieces of memory that accompanied those emotions broke free of the fog.

He understood now why he'd never been able to trust people, or how and why Blunt controlled him the way he had.

He remembered very little, but it was enough to get by- for now.

The spy began to question his sanity, after being alone in this dark world for... how many years?

It had to have been a minimum of a few decades.

Was he even still alive?

Was this an afterworld- his own personal hell?

But he had already been to hell- had lived it.

Maybe he was losing his sanity- perhaps he had never had it in the first place?

What was the last thing that had happened before entering this darkness?

Hmm... that was curious. He didn't remember.

He hated only having his emotions to keep him company.

He wondered how long it would go on.

Would it ever end?

O-o-O-o-O

Alex gasped as the isolation tank opened; light streamed in, so many noises and he could _feel_ the liquid surrounding him, the hardness of the case around him, could suddenly _smell_ and _hear_ and _see_ and _feel_ and it was completely and utterly _overwhelming__._

He squinted in the sudden light and the sudden _everything_; he could _feel_ his body going into shock.

"Careful, we need to get him to medical."

"He's dangerous like this- unpredictable. He'll lash out at anything that touches him- hell, if anyone that gets _near_ him."

"Nah, he's helpless- his senses are all hyperactive; they're overwhelming him."

"He needs to slowly adjust- get him to a dark and quiet room."

"Hold on, kid, we got you."

O-o-O-o-O

Alex was heavily drugged the next few days, as his sense slowly adjusted. He knew he would be hyper-sensitive for a while before he went back to normal.

His room was dimly lit, and he was restrained to a familiar cot.

For the first three days, the nurse that came to refill his IV was his only visitor.

Until Yassen came on the fourth day.

"How long?" Alex asked hoarsely.

"You were in the isolation tank for a week," Yassen answered simply.

They sat in silence for a moment.

"I remember more, now," Alex said quietly. "While I was in there, I began to develop emotions."

Yassen nodded. "I thought as much." He paused. "I know you're not a mechanical robot anymore, however... do you still have an obligation to serve Blunt?"

Ale swallowed, looking down. "No."

Yassen sighed, relieved. "That's good to hear."

"Why don't you hate me?" Alex - sounded genuinely curious. "I must have killed over a third of the base."

The assassin's lips twitched. "Your death count was under twenty- you didn't even kill everyone you came across, only - the ones you met in the main building. A few of the guards on the outside, and in the control tower... you didn't kill anyone else."

Alex frowned. "And the barracks? I didn't have time to confirm the kills immediately, but MI6 assured me the gas _should_ have worked."

Yassen chuckled. "If you had done an inside - sweep surveillance scope of the barracks, you would have known that I have my men sleep with specialized gas masks- ones that withstand almost all lethal gases."

The teen nodded. "Of course."

The older man seemed hesitant. "Does a 'K-Unit' mean anything significant to you?"

The spy immediately put up a block against the enclave of memory; the only thing that came through was a wave of pain- the -memory- of betrayal, broken trust. "No." He didn't remember K-Unit... nor did he want to."

"I see." Yassen looked thoughtful once more. "Your IV was changed via remote during the isolation tank, but it will be another week until you recover fully, and more time to brush up your training later. " He glanced at the tired boy. "Please be patient and recover. I'll be sure to send you some books later so you won't be too bored."

The assassin was about to leave, but some part of him told him to stay.

Alex bit his lip, facial features sheepish- almost embarrassed?- but didn't say anything.

"Yes?"

The teen hesitated. "Can you... can you stay?"

His gaze softened. "Of course."

The boy closed his eyes, relived. "Thank you," he said in a small voice.

O-o-O-o-O

Later, after Alex was asleep, Yassen and the other leaders of Nakket were discussing the recent turn of events.

"Are there any signs that the drug is progressing to the next stage?"

Yassen smiled grimly. "Yes, everything is still working in our favor. Alex Rider is ours."

O-o-O-o-O

Fox mentally did a fist-bump when he saw he had gotten a message from his contact on the DarkNet- the only thing MI6 couldn't monitor.

**Everything is going to plan. We'll send for you soon.**

O-o-O-o-O

You manipulate people, but you must not forget that people will also do it in return.

O-o-O-o-O

**Oh, and with the isolation tank thing- they do exist. Basically, they strip you of your senses. I would think after a week, Alex would have been extremely sensitive afterwards. He didn't remember being put into it because he was drugged (it would have been different if he had known what was coming and thus prepared for it). I know it's weird going from Yassen-bad, Yassen-good, and then back to Yassen being possibly evil again. I know I'll have mixed responses to bringing him back from the dead, but honestly, it wouldn't have been hard to fake his own death. Just know that this plot couldn't have worked without him. **


	31. Meet-and-Greet

**Wow. It's been a year since I've started this fic. And... it's been quite a journey. I thank you all for reading, favouriting, following, and a HUGE thanks to the reviewers- your support has been frankly amazing. Anyway, know that I am not done with LoaS- yet.**

**And enjoy.**

**Guest- And I can't wait to write it ;)**

**heyo- Pretty much a last-minute decision for me, too. Weird how things work out like that.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider.**

O-o-O-o-O

Alex stared dully at the targets he had just shot at. "Is that all?"

Yassen nodded, eyeing his results with a calculating eye. "Your time at Malagosto served you well."

The spy shrugged. "Even if I wasn't allowed to shoot at the SAS, they still taught me the basics- BB teaches instinctive shooting, too."

The two assassins sat in silence for a moment, both cleaning their weapons.

"That was your final assessment," the Russian said simply,

Alex looked up. "Did I fail?" He hadn't been exactly _perfect_ during the rigorous testing- less weight during their desert runs and his speed, stamina, and strength were just never the same as the grown men and women he had been training with. His main weapons were stealth and surprise, thus hand-to-hand unarmed combat hadn't been ideal.

"You're remarkable for one so young," Yassen answered quietly. "It should be obvious that you will never win against a test of strength with people that are nearly twice your age. You're still learning. Growing. Maturing. But it won't be long before you have reached your full potential."

The boy nodded. "Of course." He hesitated, momentarily stunned by the sudden memories of being tested harshly by Blunt. "Are you going to send me on missions?" He would comply if Yassen ordered it- but he still dreaded them. Except he knew he owed it to the assassin- and that he had no choice but to obey.

Yassen studied him carefully. "The Nakket do things differently than your previous employer. Everyone is here by choice- the same goes for missions. Solo-ops are nonexistent- we always have back-up teams in place. We care about our own," the assassin pressed.

Alex glanced down. "Are you going to send me back to MI6?"

"No," Yassen said shortly, before moving to elaborate. "I owe a friend a favor. You are free to leave at any time, but MI6 would find you almost immediately."

The teen sobered.

"While you are here, you are expected to complete a mission at least once a month," he said in a warning tone. "Is this understood?"

The boy's features hardened. "Yes, sir."

Orders- something he was used to.

Yassen filed away his microexpressions, analyzing his reaction. "The briefing is in three hours, in conference room 3A, passcode 9736vnx. Don't disappoint me."

O-o-O-o-O

Fox switched on the skype call, three other boxes of footage showing the profile pictures- which were nonexistent- for the three other people he was currently face-timing.

Gradually, they were replaced with the live screens of his unit.

Wolf and Eagle were obviously in dorms- Wolf was teaching at the Naval Academy, Eagle at West Point, the U.S. Army Academy. Snake was in a similar room, but it was a student dormitory.

"Hey guys," Fox greeted awkwardly- if only they could talk in person.

"Skip the pleasantries," Wolf said brusquely. "Any updates?"

Eagle glared at the screen. "MI6 monitors all of our communication. Careful with what you say."

Ben nodded. "Right, well. MI6 has been scrambling to find Alex. Rumor has it he went MIA on a mission almost a month ago."

The other soldiers visibly tensed.

"Did they get a location?" Wolf asked. "Why haven't they moved in yet?"

Eagle and Snake both looked expectantly at him.

Fox bit his lip. "That's the thing..." he hesitated. "They lost his tracking information. Either it was jammed, or they took it out."

Snake looked sharply at the spy. "Where was the assignment?"

"What was his mission?" Eagle interrupted.

Ben sighed. "Complete annihilation of the Nakket." He quickly moved to reassure them. "He's safe, though- I've got a friend keeping an eye on him."

Wolf narrowed his eyes. "And just how much do you trust this 'friend' of yours?"

The spy pushed away all doubts. "Enough that I know he's better than '6."

O-o-O-o-O

"That wasn't part of the deal!" Ben yelled angrily into the burner phone. "You were supposed to _protect_ Alex- not send him out to the field!"

_"You don't understand the way the Nakket works,"_ Yassen said smoothly. _"Everyone here has to work to earn their keep. The board requires him to work just as any of the other soldiers- a mission a month isn't unreasonable."_

"You're _using _him," the spy snarled. "That makes you as bad as Blunt!"

He sighed. _"Like I told Alex, don't compare me to him. I have _**some**_ sway in the meetings, but only just. Besides, it won't be long before you and the rest of your unit are here."_

"Alright," Ben agreed reluctantly. "But we're sticking with the rest of the plan. Will it take long to break him out of his shell?"

_"No,"_ the assassin answered. _"He's already progressing... but please prepare yourselves- it won't be easy; he doesn't remember you- nor does he want to."_

"I understand."

Yassen hesitated._ "You know what has to be done, correct? MI6 must go down, and Alex is the one that has to do it- otherwise they won't back down."_

Fox bit his lip. "I know... but it will work. It has to."

O-o-O-o-O

Wolf stepped outside his room, into the fresh air.

Frowning, he subtly checked his watch. He hated it when someone wasn't punctual.

The soldier sighed as he lit his cigarette- it would be weird if the cameras showed him coming outside in the middle of the night for no good reason.

The hand paused, lit cigarette hanging limp in his fingers

Six men?

Wasn't that overkill?

No- it was a U.S. military base, and he was an SAS soldier.

The man made a show of looking around, 'searching' for the danger. "Whoever the hell you are, you have no authorization to-"

Wolf didn't finish his sentence, ducking the tranquilized dart that had been aimed where his head had been a moment before, and grabbed for the gun holstered at his side.

The six figures stepped out of the shadows, and the soldier allowed him to take them down- the angle and close range making it impossible to miss the tranqs that followed.

There was only one thing he was thinking about as he drifted into unconsciousness: it would be great to see his unit again.

O-o-O-o-O

Eagle could sense their presence the moment he stepped out of the bar- as a specialized instructor at West Point, his privileges greatly rivaled the cadets- especially with weekend passes.

That, and he knew when his drink had been drugged.

Tonight was The Night.

Of course, in his intoxicated state, he was in no way able to fight full-force. He knew he had knocked out one, and injured two of the six, but not until he had a few tranqs sticking into him.

His lips twitched as the darkness set in. One dysfunctional unit reunion, coming right up.

O-o-O-o-O

Snake inwardly groaned at the amount of homework he had; let alone studying for the test that had been announced in his previous class he was currently walking home from.

Normal security cameras didn't have infrared, so it was only grainy footage that showed a car pull up to the soldier.

Snake hastily dropped his pack; there wasn't a gun to pull from the holster than normally hung at his waist- the SAS has temporarily confiscated his Desert Eagle, and he was on a college campus with civilians.

His hand-to-hand combat skills were good- damn good. But that didn't mean anything when completely surrounded by six men that happened to be the good guys... with tranquilizers.

It looked like a hopeless situation- even as he launched himself at one of the men, trying to use him as a shield against the sudden swarm of darts that hit him.

Snake didn't like how they'd had to use real tranqs- but it would all be worth it tin the end. Even if he'd had to fake his own kidnapping.

'Cause it wouldn't matter soon.

It had been way too long since he'd seen his team.

Too damn long.

O-o-O-o-O

Fox's staged abduction required a bit more elegance- mainly, jamming all communications with his on-site handler and back-up team near the end of his assignment; while simultaneously having Nakket infiltrate and retrieve him just as he was wrapping things up.

The spy allowed smile as the plane had him dropped him off thousands of feet in the air, along with the team that Nakket had sent.

Fox had a few familiar faces greeting him as he landed.

And he couldn't help but grin like an idiot.

O-o-O-o-O

Remember who you are: you're a spy, not a soldier. Soldiers have comrades to rely on- you have no one.

O-o-O-o-O

**Huh. I think that's one of the first times I haven't ended a chapter with angst. Next chapter- more of Alex and Yassen... and of course, the inevitable of Alex meeting the newly-acquainted K-Unit. This should be interesting.**


	32. Forgive-Me-Not

**I know it's been too long- it's just... you can't force writing, if you know what I mean. Still, I apologize for the slow updates and late review replies- speaking of which...**

**Guest- Yep, you and me both.**

**Guest- Thanks so much! I'm glad you're enjoying it so far. It's been an amazing experience for me as well- really, I only have you guys to thank.**

**Torchwood, you've been extremely patient with me, and I think it's finally time. I know it's probably not exactly what you expected, but I hope you enjoy it.**

**Oh! And a thank you to Ghargr18- s/he noticed a mistake from the previous chapter. Thanks for pointing that out ;)**

O-o-O-o-O

The assassin watched as a familiar teenager disembarked from the helicopter, brown hair rustling from the upturned wind amongst the blades.

The boy had a duffel bag- most likely only carrying a few changes of clothes and his weapons- tossed carelessly across his shoulder. Except Yassen knew that he _wasn't_ careless.

Perhaps the spy was still adjusting from a previously played role on his now-completed assignment.

"Alex," Yassen greeted as he came closer.

The spy inclined his head. "Sir," he said stiffly.

If he had been a soldier, there was no doubt that he would have respectfully saluted. As it were, it was not the Army, and thus the formalities were entirely different.

"I have some people for you to meet," Yassen said smoothly. Seeing his bemused expression, he explained. "After your debriefing, of course."

The younger assassin nodded, and Yassen was pleased to note a spark of curiosity in his eyes.

Brown eyes flickered up to meet his. "Where?"

"I'll find you," the man answered simply.

With that, his light footsteps took him through a different hallway, leaving a wary teenager behind.

O-o-O-o-O

"What if he doesn't remember us?"

Fox sighed. "Wolf, stop pacing. And of course he'll remember us." He pushed all inward doubts aside.

Snake frowned thoughtfully. "He's been out of commission for over a year. He didn't remember us at all _then_... it seems like it wasn't until Yassen got him that he began breaking out of his shell."

Eagle narrowed his eyes. "Why the hell do you trust Yassen, anyway? I mean, doesn't being a globally feared assassin put him on anyone's radar?"

"You of all people should understand," Fox pointed out meaningfully.

"I don't kill people for the fun of it," Eagle snapped. They all knew he had been ordered to assassinate people- through a sniper's scopes.

"Easy," Snake said quietly. "We've all been soldiers before. We know what it's like to follow orders."

Eagle glared, but let it go.

"The stress is all getting to us," Wolf st down in one of the chairs. "It's great being back together, but we need to remember why we're here- to get Cub out of this life. Obviously, it's going to take some time to readjust to being in a team, but we need to be there for him." His mouth was in a tight line, brow furrowed. "It's been almost a week since we got here- where the hell is he, anyway?"

Snake twirled a combat knife through his fingers. "Yassen said he was already on a mission when we got here- do you know how long they usually last?" The question was directed to Fox.

The spy shrugged. "Last thing I heard, is that he's alright. The Nakket, despite their bad reputation,really are the good guys- according to Yassen, they're vigilantes, almost. World governments and intelligence agencies put bad light on them to cover up their mistakes. The Nakket may send him on assassinations, but you can bet it's people who deserve it."

Snake pursed his lips. "You're saying it's okay for them to send a kid to _assassinate_ people?"

Fox bristled. "Of course not. Yassen already explained this- he wasn't happy about it, either- it was the only way to provide protection to Cub until we got here."

Eagle, deciding not to delve deeper into the mild argument, switched topics. "So it there something we need to know about you and Yassen?"

Ben raised an eyebrow." I already told you: he's a contact from way back- when I was still a new agent. Some info was bad, and Yassen and I said each others lives a couple of times. MI6 didn't know about him, and I didn't tell them. Yassen's a bad guy, but there are worse ones out there."

"Like Blunt," Wolf muttered.

Echoes of agreement followed.

O-o-O-o-O

The door swung open; three and one ex soldier stood up abruptly as a familiar teenager entered.

There was a moment of silence as the spy hesitated in the doorway, analyzing them.

The boy's face paled before he spun around on one heel, turning to leave the room... but was stopped by a raised hand.

"No, Alex," the order was quiet, but firm.

The teen blinked. "These men worked for Blunt. It's _their_ fault I'm like this."

The soldiers opened their mouths to protest, but Fox stopped them, knowing the assassin would take care of it.

"Stay."

Alex's jaw clenched, seemingly debating on whether or not to continue arguing.

"Stay, Alex- that's a direct order," Yassen said in a warning tone.

The boy stiffened. "Yes, sir."

Gracefully, he slipped back into the room and sat down- albeit reluctantly.

Awkwardly, the other men took their seats opposite him.

Fox stole a quick glance at him- sitting straight in his chair, eyes glassy and distant- he definitively _didn't_ want to be here.

Just great- they had a moody teenager on their hands now.

Eagle gave him a watery smile. "Cub. It's good to see you."

The spy glared icily at him. "My name is Alex. Not Cub."

"Of course. It won't happen again." Fox stepped in before another fight broke out- which would have happened, by Eagle's suitably chastened features.

Alex seemed to study him closely before glancing once more at Yassen.

"We don't work for Blunt," Snake reassured him. "I mean, Fox did, albeit indirectly. We were trying to stop him from hurting you,."

Alex ignored him. "What's the point in them being here?" The question was obviously directed toward Yassen.

"They are working with us to bring MI6 down," Yassen replied smoothly.

"How?" The spy demanded. "Last I checked, we don't need any help."

"They all have powerful contacts- Wolf and Eagle specifically in America, Snake in the Royal Army, and Ben on a global scale," The man answered simply.

Alex just looked away, sullen.

"Are any other Nakket leaders planning on making a move on MI6?" Fox jumped to switch the subject.

"Nakket despises governments and the intelligence community, mostly because they're so corrupt," Yassen explained. "MI6 is at the top of their list."

"And?" Wolf prompted, knowing that there was something he wasn't telling them.

"We tipped off MI6 on one of our compounds," the assassin admitted. "We're expecting them to raid it this weekend- and we'll be ready, waiting, to send a message."

Snake looked skeptical. "You really think MI6 will back down?"

Yassen smiled grimly. "If the ambus is lead by two ex-agents, along with former SAS soldiers, then yes, I believe it will send the right message."

"What if MI6 doesn't back down?" Eagle challenged. "Or worse, if your plan goes wrong and they get Cub?"

"Alex," the teen snapped, correcting the soldier. His eyes darkened. "And I'd kill myself before I let them use me again."

If Yassen was taken aback from the statement, he didn't show it.

"If MI6 fails to relinquish their hold, we have... other methods of getting our way," Yassen promised.

Alex let loose a sharp bark of laughter. "You're wrong if you think getting rid of Blunt will solve your problem, " he said bitterly. "Anyone that takes his place will be just as corrupt as him- if not worse."

"Spare us of your cynicism," Snake sighed, but not entirely disagreeing. It was more the principle of the matter- being cynical so young.

Wolf nodded firmly. "I can't speak for the rest of my team, but I'm game for participating in the ambush."

"What message are you aiming to send?" Fox asked cautiously. he didn't like the idea of possibly killing fellow agents- ones that could easily be loyal and honest.

Yassen looked like he was about to reply, but Alex beat him to it. "I couldn't care less if we slaughtered the whole lot. Anyone that works for Blunt has blood on their hands- and they're definitively not innocent."

Eagle glared coldly at him. "Aren't you generalizing a bit too much? Surely not _every_ MI6 agent is corrupt. I mean, look at Fox!"

Immediately, the soldier knew he had made a mistake- by the absolute rage that clouded the teenager's face.

"It doesn't matter if you're soldiers- you don't know what you're talking about, and I know for a fact that anyone that managed to get a badge has an utter contempt for morals," he seethed, expression murderous. he rose from his chair, stalking to the door. "I'm done here," he barked sharply- eyes daring Yassen to order him otherwise. With that, the boy left, door closing behind him with a click.

"I want a psych eval on him," Snake said immediately after he was gone.

Wolf nodded. "He's changed so much- I've never seen him this angry before."

"And a medical," Fox insisted. "Either supervised or carried out by me."

Yassen chuckled. "Good luck with that. Alex doesn't let anyone near him- and there are many here that are loyal to him- you'd have to get past them, first."

"I get the psych eval, but why a medical?" Eagle questioned.

"We haven't seen him in over a year," Fox sobered. "Or did you already forget what MI6 did to him in a few months?"

O-o-O-o-O

"Come on, Alex. Get up."

Alex blinked, suddenly aware that he was gaining consciousness.

When had he-?

Right.

Muscles screaming abuse, the teen gingerly got to his feet.

He sighed, feeling lightheaded and dizzy. Lips dry, mouth parched, he eagerly grasped at the water canteen that was handed to him

Alex forced himself to drink slowly, as he knew gulping it down would have little to no effect.

He gave the woman beside him a questioning glance.

"You passed out a few minutes ago," she answered. "Exhaustion, not dehydration- thank god. The docs would have skinned you alive if it happened three times this month." Lance hesitated, face growing serious. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Resolutely, the boy shook his head.

Lance was one of the first people he'd met when he had started regular training. They, along with many of the recruits, blew off steam at the gym, or other physically strenuous activities. Like today, they often ran on the trail that was on the outer perimeter to the base.

Intelligent, strong and attractive, along with a successful career in the U.S. Marines, Alex hadn't quite understood why she was with the Nakket- until he had gotten a hand of her file. Apparently, she had been dishonorably discharged for the assault of a superior office. What the Military file _didn't_ mention was that it had been in self-defense of an attempted rape.

Alex took an unsteady step forward, deemed himself fine, and began to walk back to base; Lance falling in step beside him.

"I'm going back to the gym to spar, you're welcome to join me, if you'd like," she offered.

Alex shot her a grateful. look. They both knew him passing out during their run didn't necessarily mean that a distraction from the arrival of K-Unit wasn't still necessary. Most people wouldn't be up to the challenge of hand-to-hand combat immediately after a two hour trek through the desert... thankfully, the Nakket recruits were not most people.

O-o-O-o-O

There was an abundance of people on the base that could beat the crap of of him... that being said, Lance and Alex were usually evenly matched, depending on their moods and injuries.

It didn't take long before his mind had cleared, easily flowing into the rhythm of various martial arts forms.

While the ex-soldier attempted grappling the spy in a series of movements taught by the U.S. Military, Alex responded with a rapid-fire style of blocks that he had learned at Malagasto. The two opponents suddenly broke off into more basic and simpler attacks- roundhouse, side, half-moon, and crescent kicks, mixed in with jabs, palm-heel strikes, hooks, and overcuts. Alex tried Aikido, she countered with Muay Thai. The cycle continued, styles blending in a mix of different Martial Arts that spanned worldwide.

Focus and concentration solely on the sparring at hand, the teen was too absorbed to notice the assassin enter.

"Alex."

The boy stiffened immediately, half-turning whilst neatly blocking the knife hand aimed at his throat.

Face impassive, Alex analyzed his handler's facial features. "Sir." He was breathing heavily, face dripping with sweat.

"Clean up and get changed," Yassen ordered. "Meet me in the same room as before. You have ten minutes." Leaving no room for arguments, he left abruptly as he had come.

Alex shot a glare at the disappearing figure, but stalked off the mat. "See you later."

"We protect our own," she reminded him quietly. "All you need to do is ask."

The boy nodded in thanks, before leaving.

O-o-O-o-O

Alex had to reinforce the memory block- he could feel the pain that was being suppressed, if only at the edges of the wall. He would hold it off- he _had_ to; he didn't know what would happen if let those memories through, didn't know what it would do to him if they were absorbed.

Alex knocked briefly before entering- and completely ignored the soldiers inside, opting to focus on his handler.

"Sir."

Yassen's eyes swept over him, studying his charge. "You've been gone for nearly four hours."

The teen shrugged. "Training."

Yassen allowed a flicker of annoyance on his normally blank features.

The spy turned to Snake. "Yassen can get you the results of the psych eval. I had the shrinks gave me one earlier," he grumbled." I was cleared by the docs after the debriefing." He frowned. "But I've had too many medicals and strip searches to care anymore."

The assassin let loose a dry chuckle. "You don't disappoint, Alex."

K-unit didn't look surprised that he had eavesdropped, either.

Fox smiled grimly. "Thanks, Alex."

Alex looked sharply at him. "I don't like you, and I don't ever want to remember whatever sort of friendship I had with any of you." His features didn't soften like they should have. "But I'm willing to work with you if that means taking down MI6."

If Wolf was upset by his bluntness, he didn't show it. "I- _we _understand."

Snake swallowed, but nodded once in a sign of agreement.

Eagle's eyes hardened into the depths of unwavering loyalty. "We got your bank."

O-o-O-o-O

Alex raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You ever done this before?" he asked doubtfully.

Fox shot him a look of irritation. "Of course- you think I would do this if I hadn't?"

The boy supposed he was right- the callous hands were rough yet gentle, moving with practiced ease. He wasn't as cold or detached as other docs Alex had met at any rate.

Snake watched idly from where he sat, eyes tracking both of their movements.

Alex was relieved that Fox was collected and professional... he'd met too many people who had tried taking advantage over him when he was vulnerable- emotionally, sexually, and physically.

If anything, the ex-spy was most fixated on the skin grafts. "Do you know how many you've had?" he asked curiously.

The teen shook his head numbly. "My memory of MI6 is still blurry. I know I've had it more than once, but I couldn't give you the exact number."

"Hmmm..." Fox examined the remnants of the faux skin carefully. "It was a cheap job, by the looks of it."

He snorted. "They were only supposed to last a mission or two- Blunt would never have paid for thousands of pounds' worth of surgery on me."

Fox's brow furrowed. "Right." Obviously distracted, he studied the boy's right shoulder. Where the X-shaped scar from the tracking chip should have been, was bare. "How did the Nakket disable the microchip?" his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "They didn't give you a skin graft, did they?"

"What microchip?" Alex immediately twisted about, facing him.

Fox exchanged glances with Snake. He didn't _know_?

"You don't remember?" Snake murmured faintly.

"The microchip," Alex began frantically, panic setting in his features. "What was it?!"

Ben swallowed. "It was a tracker," he answered quietly. "Yassen must've gotten it out- how he managed that, I don't know; the skin grafts should have covered it up and only MI6 tech could have detected it."

"I'm going to kill him," Alex growled, throwing on the shirts Snake had tossed him- signally that the medical was over.

"You and me both, kid," Fox muttered under his break.

O-o-O-o-O

"Why didn't you tell me about it?"

Yassen was mildly surprised. "I thought it would bring you unwanted memories."

The teen nodded thoughtfully, still mulling over it.

"They're here to help, you know," the man said quietly. "Don't let your personal feelings cloud the main objective."

The boy sighed. "I know."

Quieter still, "They care about you."

Alex was already walking away.

O-o-O-o-O

You don't forgive easily... nor will you ever forget.

O-o-O-o-O

**Anything you want to see more of? Specifically the interactions and portrayals of the characters...? How's Yassen going for you? **


End file.
